Piece by piece
by 20BlueRoses
Summary: One difference can dramatically change a year. With Cal dealing with the tragic aftereffects of a helicopter crashing into the E.D. and Ethan putting his own problems on hold to help, who's there to intervene when Scott Ellison takes a dislike to Ethan? An alternative series 31.
1. Chapter 1

Hey :) Time for a new fic from me.

Something like this has been playing on my mind for probably the best part of a year but I've only just managed to get it down on paper. It's potentially overambitious but I have the whole thing roughly planned out (a first for me) and I'm going to try my best to see it through to the end.

I'm quite nervous about posting this as (without giving too much away) it could be a sensitive subject matter and the last thing I want to do is offend anyone. Please remember, the character's thoughts are not always the same as mine. I'll put disclaimers ahead of each chapter if I think it may be necessary. Also, as I've said before, I always research when I'm writing but I'm without medical knowledge and there is a strong likelihood I'll get things wrong. Please forgive me if I do!

To set the scene, this story opens at the same time as the previous series, with the helicopter crashing into the E.D. This is only a few months after Ethan found out he has the Huntington's gene. This will follow certain plot lines that happened during that series but my memory is hazy (except of the key Cal/Ethan scenes, of course!) and so it's my interpretation of what happened rather than a direct replica.

Short chapter to start with but please let me know what you think.

* * *

1.

* * *

He's pulled from sleep too early and it hurts his head. He searches through the fogginess, wondering whether it's a premature alarm clock or a fleeing one-night-stand to blame this time. The mattress beneath him is too hard to be his own but it feels moulded to his body, too comforting to have been used for anything other than sleep.

He wants to inspect his surroundings but his eyelids are heavy and refuse to open. His head aches from the lack of memories. In fact, everything hurts, but it's a dull, constant pain and he can cope with that. It barely increases as he gives an experimental stretch.

"Hey." The soft voice of his brother.

He frowns and there's a sharp pull of a cut on his forehead.

"Cal, are you awake?"

Cal makes a noise half way between a groan and a yes. Ethan never lets him sleep when he needs it the most and it's simultaneously annoying and reassuring. He forces one eye open and bright light sears through his already aching head. He reaches for his pillow, wanting to pull it over his eyes, but the prick of an IV line in the back of his hand halts him. He squints in confusion. The stark white of a hospital room finally comes into focus.

He rolls his head to face his brother. Ethan is stubbly and red-eyed and looks all wrong. The expression on his little brother's face scares him more than being in a hospital bed.

"What happened?" he rasps. His throat burns.

Ethan's bottom lip trembles and he hesitates. "The helicopter. Remember?"

There's a second of oblivion before the memory returns. Cal shudders involuntarily. He can see it still, the helicopter thrashing in the air like a leaf in autumn wind, knowing what was about to happen but unable to change its fate. And then a screech as the helicopter hit concrete, so loud it hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut. It had all happened so quickly after that. A large sheath of metal had flown towards him, knocked him over and pinned his legs to the floor. What ensued is hazy but he remembers writhing in pain, his brother's anxious face, fervent discussions about how to set him free. He supposes he must have blacked out soon after that.

"Um, Caleb?"

Ethan is cradling his glasses in his hands and when he looks at Cal, he misses his eyes by a few centimetres. Ethan's lips are thin, like he's trapping a secret in his mouth.

"A bit of the helicopter hit you," Ethan continues, the spaces between his words stretched out unnaturally long. "Got your- your leg."

"Yeah, I remember," Cal croaks.

"You were trapped for over an hour." Ethan's voice wobbles. "And- and by the time they managed to get the first bit of wreckage off you, you were already hyperkalemic."

It's not Ethan's words but the tone of his voice which starts to alarm Cal. He's heard his brother break enough bad news to recognise the enforced calmness. Fear lodges in his throat. He wills Ethan to make eye contact because he knows the only time he won't is when he's afraid he's going to cry.

"Ethan-?"

"Just… listen."

Ethan takes his hand and focuses his gaze on their interlocked fingers.

"Once they removed the large sheet of metal, it revealed further damage. I think it was a bit of the helicopter blade, I- I don't know." Ethan takes a shaky breath. "But, um, the release of pressure on top of the hyperkalemia sent you into cardiac arrest."

Cal's hit by a surge of nausea and tightens his grip on his brother's hand.

Ethan's eyes flicker towards his but only for a second. "And, well, we couldn't shock you with the metal still in your leg."

Cal feels lightheaded with panic. He tries to anchor himself by focusing on the weight of Ethan's hand in his but it doesn't work. He knows where this story could end if he were a patient, but this is him; it couldn't happen to him.

"They, um-" Ethan starts.

Cal doesn't wait to hear the end of the sentence. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares down the end of the bed. Where his left foot should create a lump in the covers, there's nothing. He flicks his leg. There's a painful throbbing somewhere indeterminable but no sign of a foot. Half way down his left calf the bedding becomes flat. His hands scramble towards his ankle but only grasp handfuls of blanket. It's gone. Half his leg has gone.

His breath is expelled like he's been punched in the stomach and he collapses back on the mattress. He feels sick. He can't breathe. It feels like he's falling.

"No," he says. "No, no, Ethan."

"I'm so sorry," Ethan's voice sounds thick with tears. "There were no alternatives. It wouldn't have been salvageable."

"No," Cal sobs. His chest is heaving. The edges of his vision are turning black. "No," he says again. It seems to be the only word he's capable of except this time it never seems to end, only transcends into a torrent of sobs. He's lost his leg. They amputated his leg. He doesn't know how he's supposed to live like that.

A guttural sound is produced as he attempts to inhale. He tries again but his throat is tight and he can't get the air into his lungs. A second round of panic hits him now that he can't breathe but also he doesn't care, he doesn't need to breathe, he just needs his leg.

Ethan's hands flap in front of him as they hold an oxygen mask over his mouth. Cal feels his own hand being thrust against Ethan's chest, his brother telling him to breathe out, breathe slowly, to calm down. His head is spinning. He thinks he might pass out. He doesn't know how this has happened, how he's woken as a patient, someone who's fighting for air. Someone who only has one leg.

Nausea hits him again and he pushes his brother away. "Sick," he gasps.

Ethan grabs the cardboard bowl and rolls him onto his side so that he can vomit. His throat stings as he retches but it's only bile that dribbles into the bowl. He feels too drained to do anything other than flop over the side of the bed, so he doesn't resist as Ethan helps him rest back against the pillows.

His vision is blurry with tears and Ethan dabs at his cheeks with a handkerchief. The unusually tender gesture acts as a reminder that something bad has happened and he can't bare it. He turns his head to the side and wipes his own tears roughly with the base of his hand.

"Everything's healing well," Ethan says. Although he speaks gently, there's a pleading element to his voice, begging him to be okay. "It's below the knee, minimal tissue damage, healthy pulse. They took you back to surgery yesterday to tidy it up and the doctor says he's sure it will be viable for prosthesis."

Cal understands what his brother's saying but when putting that into context of himself, Ethan may as well be speaking a different language. He doesn't reply. He's not even sure if he would manage anything other than a scream.

"Do you want me to get the doctor?" Ethan asks. "He can talk you through everything much better than I can."

Cal remains still and silent except for the occasional splutter as his breathing threatens to grow panicky again. His tears are unabated and he lets them trickle down his face as he tries to make sense of what's happened. He forgets Ethan is waiting for a reply until he sees him get to his feet, presumably off to search for a medic.

"Don't!" Cal feebly manages.

Ethan returns to him and perches on the edge of his bed.

Cal wipes his hands over his eyes and forces himself to meet his brother's concerned gaze. Ethan looks exhausted and Cal realises that his brother's probably not left his side since the accident.

"What do I do?" Cal whispers. His voice breaks on the last word. An echoing sob escapes.

Ethan doesn't answer but pulls him into an embrace, folding strong arms around him.

Cal's fingers clutch desperately at Ethan's cardigan and he buries his head in his brother's chest. He can hear the gasps and cries coming from his own mouth, some not far short of screams, but it feels like he's watching himself from afar. This can't be his life now. It just can't.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the feedback, I appreciate each and every review. Just a warning that there are a few potentially graphic paragraphs towards the end of the bit in Italics.

 **AVMabs:** Glad you like the concept and absolutely, there's loads that can be explored, perhaps too much- I keep thinking of new things to add rather than elaborating on the existing plots, so I hope I manage to do it all justice. Thank you for reviewing.

 **CBloom2:** Thank you for your review, really pleased that you enjoyed it - if that's the right word considering I injured one of your favourites! Hope you like the update too.

 **Guest (1):** I'm pleased you like the idea of the story. Thank you for your review and comments on my writing.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Wow, thank you so much. I'm pleased you like the idea and I hope I don't let you down with the rest of it. I'm really glad the grief came across well as it was hard to put into words as I imagine there would be so much going on in his mind/body all at the same time. I'm glad you're worried about Scott (perhaps you need to be mwahaha) but there's quite a way to go before we get to that bit. Hope you enjoy this chapter too.

 **Guest (2):** Thank you for your review, glad you enjoyed the opener. Ethan will, of course, try to be there for his brother but that's assuming nothing gets in the way.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Sorry to just add your reply now, the site wouldn't let me view the review at first for some reason. That's so so kind of you to be so complimentary of my writing, it means a lot. I'm really pleased you enjoyed it and that it had an emotional impact. Thank you for reviewing and I hope you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

 **2.**

* * *

 _Ethan allowed himself to be helped out of the pile of collapsed scaffolding. Alicia had been freed ahead of him and so he limped to her side and joined her in shocked silence. The hospital grounds were destroyed. Bricks and metal and debris from the helicopter littered the floor. Injured people were everywhere. Some accompanied, others alone, several either unconscious or dead._

" _My god," Alicia murmured._

 _He was too shocked to reply but felt his body twitch with the obligation to get involved and help the injured. In the distance Louise waved for help and Alicia ran in her direction without another word._

 _Ethan took a clumsy step in the direction of one body but then another caught his eye and he hastened that way instead, too many casualties to know how to prioritise. His head was spinning and he was certain it had nothing to do with being knocked out earlier._

 _He zoned in on a patient, a bloodied woman on her back, softly groaning, but before he reached her he felt someone tug sharply on his arm. He assumed Alicia had returned but instead it was Max, grubby and helpless and looking at him apologetically._

" _It's Cal," he said._

 _The words hit Ethan's muscles before his head. He felt weak, like he needed to drop to the floor. "What- what-? Is he okay?"_

" _Just come," Max had said._

 _Ethan ran past the same injured people he'd intended to help. Max led him to the site of the helicopter's grave and among the rubble, looking small and scared, was his brother._

 _Ethan threw himself to the floor. His knee, only just relocated, throbbed, but he barely noticed. Cal was conscious but trapped, a large fragment of the helicopter pinned his legs to the floor and had him squashed against the wall. He was breathing through an oxygen mask and his face was white and scrunched with pain._

 _Cal tried to remove the mask to greet him but Ethan was quicker and placed it back over his brother's mouth. His other hand automatically fell into position on the side of Cal's face, stroking his tear-stained cheek._

 _He took his eyes off his brother for long enough to glare at Charlie, the only other medic in sight. "Why's there no doctor with him?" he demanded._

" _Lily was treating him," the nurse said. "She gave him the oxygen, 10 milligrams of IV morphine and asked me to monitor. She was needed elsewhere and we're still waiting on fire and rescue."_

" _Well I'm here now," Ethan said. He turned back to his brother. "Cal, how are you doing?"_

 _Cal made a second attempt to remove the mask and Ethan permitted him to pull it a few centimetres away this time so that he could speak easily._

" _Legs hurt," he said. "Tired. I'm okay."_

" _You're tired?" Ethan frowned. "Were you knocked out at all?"_

" _Dunno. Maybe."_

 _There was a deep laceration on Cal's forehead and when Ethan pressed around the area, his brother hissed. He tried to examine his brother's eyes for signs of concussion but without a torch, the only thing he could see in Cal's eyes was fear._

" _Charlie, I need equipment," Ethan said. "Torch, stethoscope, if we can get a portable ECG machine from somewhere."_

" _I'm on it."_

 _With Charlie gone, Ethan squeezed closer to his brother so that he would be aware if there was any deterioration. Potential risks flooded his brain: crush syndrome, hyperkalemia, compartment syndrome, traumatic rhabdomyolysis, and he began to feel light headed. To focus himself he placed his fingers against the pulse point in Cal's neck. His heartrate felt slow and Ethan hoped Charlie returned soon with the monitor._

" _Where were you?" Cal murmured through the oxygen mask._

" _That's a story for another time," Ethan said._

 _Cal groaned. "Could do with a distraction, bro."_

" _Is the pain getting worse?"_

 _Cal squeezed his eyes shut and nodded._

" _I can give you another 5 of morphine but that's it. Once Charlie's back, I'll ask him to get some."_

" _Just get me out of here," Cal pleaded._

 _Ethan looked over his shoulder and could see the fluorescent jackets of rescue workers by the entrance of the building. "If you'll be alright by yourself for a minute, I can check how long they're going to be?"_

 _Cal nodded his consensus but Ethan still didn't want to leave him. His hand lingered on his brother's shoulder before he got to his feet._

 _He stood near to a group of rescue workers and called over. "Excuse me, can I speak to whoever's in charge."_

 _The men exchanged a look of frustration before one in a red hard-hat replied. "Bit busy here, son."_

" _Yes, but I'm a doctor," Ethan said. "My br- my patient- is trapped beneath a bit of helicopter body and we need to get him inside for treatment urgently. How long will you be?"_

 _The man shrugged. "Hard to say. Twenty minutes? We have to prioritise stabilising the building otherwise there could be a further catastrophe."_

" _No, no, that's too long," Ethan said. His heart slammed against his chest. "I need someone over here pronto!"_

" _Be as quick as we can, can't say farer than that."_

 _Ethan felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. Although he knew it was important to secure the building, nothing mattered more to him than Cal. He blinked furiously as he jogged back to his brother and was grateful to see Charlie arriving back at the same time._

 _Cal's head was tilted back against the wall and his skin was pale and clammy. Ethan grabbed the stethoscope from Charlie and tore open the top few buttons on his brother's shirt so he could place the instrument on his brother's chest._

" _He's bradycardic," Ethan told the nurse. The exchanged a worried glace. "Find Lily, I need another doctor here."_

 _Cal glanced up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Bad, then?"_

" _Nothing we can't treat, okay?" He forced a reassuring smile. "I'm going to do an ECG just to see exactly what's going on." As placed the pads on his brother's chest he could feel him trembling. As a doctor, Cal knew all the same complications as he did, so Ethan supposed there was little point telling him there was nothing to worry about. Instead, he opted for a different tactic. "If you want to hear something amusing," he said, "Alicia and I got trapped beneath some scaffolding. I had to strip to my boxers so she could relocate my knee."_

 _Cal gave a feeble huff of amusement but then his face dropped and he pulled at the oxygen mask. "Must be serious… if you're giving me… free… ammo."_

" _You asked for a distraction," Ethan said. He returned the mask to Cal's face and angled the ECG machine so his brother couldn't see it as it began to produce results. "I'll let you imagine how well that interaction went."_

 _He squinted at the machine, alarmed to see that as well as the bradycardia his potassium levels were high._

" _Update me," a voice came from behind._

 _Ethan turned to see Lily looking uncharacteristically shaken. He opened his mouth to fill her in, but she was already examining the ECG results with a frown on her face._

" _I want to get him in," she said._

 _Ethan sagged. "Fire and rescue could be twenty minutes yet. I asked."_

" _Then we lift it off him ourselves." Without hesitation she had called over to where Max stood, a few metres away helping a teenage girl hold a bandage to her forehead. "Round up as many people as you can. Anyone who is not injured I want here."_

 _Ethan felt a rush of nerves. "Are you sure?"_

 _Lily indicated for him to stand and he did so, letting Charlie to take his position by his brother's side. They took a few paces so that Cal couldn't hear. "He's bradycardic and hyperkalemic," she stated bluntly. "He needs treating or he could go into cardiac arrest. You know that, Ethan."_

" _But the release of pressure could be the catalyst."_

" _And if that's going to happen it will happen whether we lift the metal ourselves or wait for the rescue team. In either scenario, the sooner we treat him the better."_

 _Ethan nodded but he still felt sick. "Okay. We do it."_

 _He squeezed through the growing group of people to be with Cal. Despite Max shouting loud instructions, he could still hear the sound of his brother's shuddering breaths, each one laced with pain. With a twinge of guilt, Ethan remembered he'd still not given him the extra dose of morphine. Priorities had changed._

 _He traced his hand down the side of Cal's face and let it come to rest on his shoulder. "We're getting you out now, Caleb."_

 _Cal's forehead was creased and his chin trembling. His eyes, though half shut, were frantic with fear. "Ethan," he rasped. "Love you, okay."_

" _You don't need to say it, Cal. You're going to be fine."_

 _Behind him, he heard a collective groan as the crowd had started to heave at the metal. Ethan watched. His stomach churned as they struggled. He thought, for one moment, that they were going to drop it back onto his brother. But then they managed to lift it higher and Ethan got first glimpse of what lay underneath._

 _It felt like he'd been hit by the helicopter himself. A blade from the vehicle was embedded in his brother's left leg. The limb was shredded, brutally warped to twist around the blade. There were gaping holes, multiple fractures and visible bone. Blood was all over the floor._

 _Bile rushed to his throat and he swallowed it quickly. He spun back to Cal, hoping his brother hadn't had the same view of his leg as he'd had._

 _But his brother's eyes were shut and the monitors started to wail._

" _He's arrested," Lily shouted. "We need to get him flat and start CPR."_

 _Charlie wasted no time and started pounding on his brother's chest._

 _Ethan clamped a hand to his mouth. He couldn't stop looking at Cal's leg. It didn't even look like a leg any more. He heard Charlie reach the thirtieth compression and he turned back in time to see the nurse giving the first of two rescue breaths._

" _I want to intubate and shock," Lily said._

" _Hi- his leg," Ethan stammered. "You can't shock him." Lily's eyes met his and, with another gut wrenching thump, he realised what she was thinking. "No! Lily, no."_

 _Her body sagged but she didn't falter. "Max," she demanded. "You need to run. Get me the defibrillator, intubation kit and a bag-valve mask. A scalpel, forceps, an oscillating saw, a- a tourniquet, a periosteal elevator, bandages, suturing kit-"_

" _I don't know what half that stuff is," Max said, sounding unusually insecure._

" _Then find someone who does."_

" _And say what?"_

 _Lily threw a cautious look towards Ethan. "Tell them I'm about to perform an amputation."_

 _Max was wide-eyed but he ran in the direction of the hospital. For a few seconds the only sound was Charlie counting under his breath as he performed the compressions on Cal._

 _Ethan angrily wiped away a tear. "Lily, he won't cope."_

 _Her face wrinkled in sympathy. "I don't know what to say, Ethan. He has no output, I need to shock him. Even if by some miracle we get him back through CPR, do you really think that leg is viable?"_

 _Ethan knew she was right but he couldn't voice the agreement. He grabbed his brother's unresponsive hand and squeezed it tightly. "It'll be okay, Cal, I love you, it will all be okay." He sniffed nosily and tried to compose himself. "Let me take over compressions," he asked of Charlie._

" _No need," the nurse calmly replied._

 _Ethan ran his hand over his head. His vision was blurry with tears. He felt so useless that he couldn't help his brother when he needed him the most. Worse than that, was the feeling of resignation that came when Max returned, Robyn by his side and their arms full of the equipment that was going to be used to amputate his brother's leg._

 _Lily worked quickly to feed a ventilation tube down Cal's trachea and attached a bag to be used instead of mouth to mouth resuscitation._

 _She glanced at his leg. "Ethan, this is going to be traumatic for you, maybe you shouldn't watch."_

" _I'm not leaving him."_

" _Okay," she said. She didn't sound surprised. "Robyn take over CPR, I need Charlie to assist me here."_

 _Ethan sunk uselessly onto the floor. It felt like he wasn't there. If it hadn't been for the cold night air, he could have believed it was all a bad dream. His colleagues moved swiftly around him, Robyn performing compressions and telling Max when to squeeze the oxygen bag, Charlie and Lily inspecting Cal's leg and debating where to make the cut. His gaze flickered repeatedly from his brother's closed eyelids to his mangled leg but soon his eyes became so waterlogged that he couldn't see either. He blinked and tears ran down both cheeks._

 _Now that he could see again, he inspected the incision that Lily had made around Cal's calf. It was about four inches beneath his knee and she had removed enough tissue to create a flap with the remaining skin and muscle. The saw was already in her hand but Ethan watched her straighten her back and take a deep breath before placing it against the bone._

 _The bone broke with a crack. The saw screeched as Lily moved it back and forth across Cal's leg. The noise of splintering was constant. Ethan was hit with a sudden wave of nausea and he vomited loudly onto the concrete. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth but ignored the dampness of tears on his cheeks._

 _The procedure dragged and every snap of bone and gush of blood made Ethan feel sicker. They were hacking his brother up right in front of him and there was nothing he could do to stop them without losing his brother completely. Robyn looked like she was struggling to keep up compressions and so he wordlessly got up on his knees and held out his locked fists, ready for his turn. She eyed him anxiously but when the cycle had finished, moved to the side so he could take over._

 _As Ethan pressed down on his brother's chest, his gaze was fixed on Cal. His brother was deathly white, unnaturally still and completely broken, yet still unequivocally Cal. Please, he repeated to the beat of his compressions, please, please, please._

 _There was a final crunch as Lily made it all the way through his limb. She and Charlie moved deftly to suture the wound and wrap enough bandages around to stem the bleeding while they got him inside._

 _His colleague's voice echoed in his head._

" _Time to save his life."_

* * *

Cal gasps awake. He scrambles to an upright position and checks his injured leg before throwing himself back against the pillow, breathing heavily.

"You alright?" Ethan asks. He immediately regrets the naivety of his question.

"I can feel it," Cal says, eyes wide, looking like a small boy again. "I thought…" his sentence trails off.

As Ethan watches his brother discover his injury all over again, his chest aches in sympathy. He slumps forwards as if pulled by the weight of his heart. "Phantom limb?" he muses.

Cal gives a single, pained nod.

The phenomenon has always fascinated Ethan, how it's possible to feel sensation in a limb that isn't there, but he knows now's not the time to delve into it. Only one question's important. "Does it hurt?"

The grimace on his brother's face is enough of an answer. Ethan helps himself to Cal's medical notes and compares the time he was last given pain relief to that on his wristwatch. "You're due your next dose of morphine," he says. "I'll get the doctor."

Cal doesn't object but he doesn't give any inclination of having heard him either. He's staring at the ceiling, his jaw clenched and body still.

Ethan manages to locate the doctor easily but he's in a huddle of medical staff and he has to clear his throat three times before anyone realises he's waiting. The doctor overcompensates for his inattentiveness by assuring him Cal was the next on his list. Ethan has no idea whether he's telling the truth but wishes he'd talk less and walk a little faster.

The doctor greets Cal with a warm smile. "Hello, Caleb, I'm Doctor Atwood."

When Cal doesn't reply, Ethan takes a tentative step forwards. "He, um, prefers to be called Cal."

The doctor nods. "Cal it is." He smiles broadly. "I know what it's like, anyone dare call me Horatio instead of Harry and I'd have their head off!"

Ethan notices his brother scowl. He tries to catch his eye to share their mutual irritation at the doctor's pompous mannerisms but Cal either doesn't notice or purposely ignores him.

"Right." The doctor scans the updated observation records, his eyes flickering between the paper file and the monitor Cal's attached to and makes a noise of approval. "Everything's looking promising," he says.

Cal's frown deepens.

"But I hear you're in pain," the doctor continues. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad would you say it is?"

"Bad," Cal mumbles.

"Is that an eight? A nine?"

Cal shrugs. His chin sinks into his chest, his shoulders hunched. He refuses to make eye contact with the doctor.

"An 8.5?" The doctor waits eagerly for a few second until it finally sinks in that Cal's not going to answer. "Oh, these scales are daft, aren't they?" he says. "If you need pain relief, you need pain relief."

As the doctor draws up a syringe of morphine, Ethan battles the urge to double check everything he's doing. He waits for the doctor to inject it into the cannula on the back of Cal's hand, and then thanks him, knowing his brother's not in the right state of mind to.

"Okay if I examine your leg?"

Ethan's watching his brother closely enough to see the shudder that courses through his body. Cal's eyebrows knot together and the tip of his nose turns pink as if he's about to cry. He shuffles lower on the bed and shrugs again. "If you want."

Ethan resumes his position on the bedside chair. In what he hopes is a nonchalant manner, he rests his arm on the mattress so that Cal can grab hold of his hand if he needs to.

The doctor lifts the duvet and reveals a thick shroud of bandages around the end of the stump. The other leg is badly bruised but an easy sight in comparison. Ethan looks from the legs back up to Cal. His brother's eyes are tightly shut and Ethan can see he's clenching his teeth.

It takes a few minutes for the bandages to come off but when the limb is finally revealed, Ethan has to stifle a gasp. He's seen amputations before, of course, but not like this. Not on his brother. The leg ends half way down the calf and the end is severely swollen, large stiches are spread across a long incision and the skin is red and raw. He can't help it; he winces.

A movement to his side alerts him and he spins around in time to see his brother watching him. As he realises that Cal must have seen him wince, heat flushes his face and he feels queasy with guilt. Cal had chosen to look at him in preference to his leg but what he saw must have been nearly as painful. He tries to convey an apology through his eyes but his brother pointedly turns his head in the opposite direction.

"The wound's healing as well as can be expected," the doctor says. He beckons a nurse from the corridor and asks her to redress the wound, thanking her with a wink. "Still very swollen but that's normal and it will gradually go down over the next few months." He claps his hands together. "Now, I'm sure you're eager to know what will happen next."

Ethan longs for Cal to respond but all he hears is a muffled sniff.

"I anticipate we'll keep you in for a further week," he continues, unperturbed, "then, all being well, you can continue your recovery at home. Before you're discharged the nurse and the physio will help you become confident with looking after your leg, how to clean it, how to use the compression garment, all standard stuff."

He pauses and Ethan imagines Cal's retort that none of this is standard. He considers saying it himself but doesn't want to upset his brother further.

"You'll be referred to the prosthetics unit at Newcroft. If you're not familiar, it's about a twenty minute drive from here; I do the occasional shift there too. Unfortunately it won't be me you'll see, you'll be assigned a specific prosthetist and he or she will work with you to get used to using an artificial limb."

The nurse, now finished with the bandages, hands the doctor a series of leaflets. He looks at them in confusion but then his brows lift and he presents them to Cal. Cal makes no move to accept them so the doctor awkwardly leaves them balancing on the edge of the bed.

"Typically, we'll get you using a temporary prosthesis around four weeks from now," he says. "That will require intensive physio to recondition the muscles and learn how to use your leg again. This will also involve frequent follow up appointments to make any necessary adjustments to the prosthetic so that you are more comfortable. At this point the size and shape of the residual limb will still be changing as the swelling goes down and muscle bulk increases so it is important the prosthetic matches."

Ethan tries to look at Cal but his brother is still facing the opposite direction. Even with his face hidden, Ethan can still see the occasional shiver running through his body and wishes there was something he could do to comfort him. Instead, he focuses himself on practical support by memorising the information the doctor is giving them, knowing it's likely his brother is too upset to retain it.

"Depending on progress, we'll be able to fit you with a permanent prosthesis at around the six month mark." The doctor smiles. "That will be custom made for you and will feel much lighter and more comfortable than its temporary counterpart. Of course, there will be check-ups, but from this point we are usually very positive with the outcomes." He pauses. "Is there anything you wanted to ask?"

Ethan opens his mouth to reply but his brother delivers a firm no. He hadn't expected Cal to speak and suspects he only did so to prevent him from asking anything himself.

"Okay." The doctor claps his hands again. "Righty-ho, then. I'll leave you to it."

As the doctor leaves, Ethan walks around to the other side of the bed and stands in front of Cal's eye line. His brother, stubbornly, turns his head again and stares straight ahead. His expression is blank but his chin is trembling and he's twisting his hands anxiously.

"You hear, Cal? Four weeks and you can start walking again. That's sooner than I first thought."

Cal doesn't reply but Ethan can see the twitch of a muscle in his jaw.

"And a week, potentially less, I assume, if things go well, then you can come back home." He pauses, open mouthed, desperate for a response. "That will be better, won't it? I don't know about you but I hate hospitals." He forces a chuckle at his feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

Cal remains silent.

Ethan rubs his forehead, wishing he knew what to say that would help. He squeezes his brother's shoulder. Cal doesn't flinch away but his body turns rigid under Ethan's grip.

"How about I get some things for you from the flat? Your laptop, some DVDs, um, I can pick up some clothes and toiletries." He pauses to give Cal chance to speak. "Anything I've forgotten?" he prompts. "Any preference on the clothes?"

Cal finally looks at him. His eyes are damp but there's a steely coldness in them that unnerves Ethan even before his brother speaks.

"You mean, which clothes will fit my deformed leg?"

"No." There's a hollow feeling in Ethan's chest. "No, Cal, I didn't. Honestly. I'm just trying to help."

Cal looks at his lap and there's a few seconds where Ethan worries his brother is going to fell back into his self-imposed silence.

"Caleb?"

"Get out."

"I- I- _no._ I'm staying here with you."

Cal wipes his hand across his eyes. "Why? You clearly can't bear the sight of- of- _that_ …" his hand flaps in the direction of his injured leg.

"Cal, I-"

"I want to be on my own."

"I don't think that's a good idea when you're this upset."

"Just go, Ethan!" Cal says, his volume loud but his voice cracking with the strain. "Leave me alone."

Ethan's shoulders slump with exhaustion. He wants to stay but more than that, he wants to do what's best for his brother. As a doctor, he knows that getting worked up could be detrimental to any of the progress Cal has made. He feels defeated but does what was asked of him and heads towards the door.

He takes a final look over his shoulder before he leaves. His brother has curled onto his side and his body is shaking with the force of stifled sobs.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone who read or reviewed. I'd really appreciate it if you can spare the time to review this chapter too. Just a small reminder that Cal's views are not my views - he is shocked and upset but that doesn't mean his thoughts are a true reflection on what it's like living with a disability.

 **casualtyfics111:** Thank you so much for your review, I'm glad you liked it. I have no medical knowledge (unless years watching Casualty counts?) so I'm incredibly relieved the medical stuff seems accurate as that's what I'm least confident about. I did quite a bit of research - my search history is interesting reading - 'how do you amputate a limb?' haha. It was fairly easy to find information about the process post amputation and getting a prosthetic, but the amputation itself took a bit of guess work and a lot of hoping I sounded convincing. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy this next installment.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** I'm pleased you like the flashback as it was very difficult to write, not least because I struggle with that past tense these days. Think I might avoid any other flashbacks now. Thank you so much for your review, I really appreciate it and I'm glad the raw pain came through. I wanted to show everyone's shock not just the brothers', but of course they are always going to be my main focus. Hope you continue to enjoy reading.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thank you so much for reviewing. I think it must be hard for Cal to have been trapped (or if any of the staff had been for that matter) as he knew what the potential complications were - and yet I don't think even he guessed at amputation. Hope you enjoy the next chapter of heartbreak. It will eventually get happier, promise!

* * *

 **3.**

* * *

Ethan slams his locker door shut and rests his forehead against it, making the most of a few moments peace before his shift starts. It feels wrong to be in the same hospital where is brother is a patient but several floors below, working instead of by his side. He hopes his shift goes quickly so he can return to the ward and have another attempt at lifting Cal's spirits.

The sound of the staffroom door makes him jump. He positions his stethoscope around his neck and takes a deep breath before turning to face his colleague.

"Morning," Charlie says. "Time for a coffee before you start?"

Ethan doesn't need long for a hot drink, having had years of practice gulping down burning coffee during rushed breaks, but he suspects it's not a drink Charlie wants but a chat. His watch reveals he still has five minutes and yet he indicates the door with a nod of his head. "I should probably get started."

"Ethan," Charlie halts him with a soft call of his name, the guise of a coffee forgotten. "How is he?"

"Um," Ethan says. It seems impossible put Cal's distress into words. "Upset." He squeezes the bridge of his nose, trying to rid the impending headache. "Physically, he's recovering well, but-" he shakes his head. "I've not seen him like this before. He just lies there, Charlie. He'll barely talk to me, let alone confide in me about whatever he's thinking."

"It's early days."

"I know that. I'm just worried. He's meant to be doing some basic stretches to keep up the muscle strength for when he's ready to get a prosthetic, but I don't think he listened to a word the physio said. I don't know if he's in denial or- or what. I don't know what to do."

Charlie rubs the back of his head. "I'll talk to him. I was planning to go up after my shift anyway."

"Ah," Ethan says, "That's the other thing. He's asked me to forbid anyone from visiting."

"That's not like Cal."

Ethan sighs. "No, well, Lily came up to see how he was doing. He accused her of coming to inspect her handiwork."

"If he wants someone to shout at, there's very little that penetrates this thick skin."

"I don't know, Charlie. He made me promise I wouldn't let anyone go. He- he said he doesn't want anyone to see him like that."

"Well," Charlie says. "If that's what Cal wants."

Ethan gives a sad shrug. "Have you any news on Mrs Beauchamp and Grace?"

"Connie's fine. Again, I'm speaking physically, of course." He bows his head. "Grace is still critical."

Ethan chest aches. "She's just a child."

"She's in the best place." Charlie pauses. "As is Cal. Try not to worry any more than can be avoided."

Ethan nods but he's not sure why. He knows he won't stop worrying until he's sure his brother is going to be okay. "I'd better get to work."

He leaves the staffroom deep in thought and jumps violently as Alicia nearly crashes into him. She's out of breath and dishevelled, still in her own clothes even though her shift is about to start.

"Oh God, sorry, Ethan," she says. She reaches out to straighten his stethoscope. "I'm mega late. Heavy night. Any chance you could cover? I'll be ten minutes, fifteen tops, I promise. Just for a coffee and a shower."

"I- yes, I suppose."

She presses her lips against his cheek. "I owe you."

Ethan watches as she races down the corridor, handbag thumping against her hip. The weight in his chest lifts, if only for a moment and he's sure it's down to seeing Alicia. His face feels like it's burning. Alicia's beautiful and bright and a bundle of positive energy, but it's only now she kissed him on the cheek he realises he has a crush on her. He groans internally; he's hopeless when he likes a girl. Then again, she'd seen him in his boxers and hadn't mocked him for that, _or_ his Nibbles story. Perhaps there's hope for him yet.

But as soon as he's had the thought, he's flooded with guilt and his heart sinks back to his stomach. How can he be worrying about a girl when his brother is struggling to come to terms with a life changing injury? He shakes his head, determined to rid all thoughts of a potential relationship and focus on what he can do to help Cal.

Before his attention has fully shifted, he spots an item has fallen from Alicia's overflowing handbag. He stoops to pick it up. It's a small packet and he instantly recognises it from the many times as doctor supplying it to distressed or regretful women. He calls after her but she's already dived into the staffroom. Before he can follow, his name is called and so he shoves Alicia's belongings into his scrub pocket. He's meant it all the times he's told patients that taking the morning after pill is nothing to be ashamed of, but he doesn't want to breach Alicia's confidentiality by letting her colleagues know.

He follows the trolley into Resus, listening intently as Jez reels off the relevant information. The patient is a seven year old boy who was hit by a car on the way to school. He's stable but had lost consciousness at the scene and is still drowsy.

"Hello, Noah," he says. "My name is Doctor Hardy and it's my job to make sure you're okay. I need you to tell me where it hurts."

Noah's chin trembles. "My head," he whimpers. "My leg."

Noah's leg is in a splint and has a healthy pulse, so Ethan prioritises the head injury. He shines his torch into both of his patient's eyes and is relieved to see both pupils are equal and reactive.

"Do you remember what happened, Noah?"

The child's face crumples and he fights against the neck brace, trying to sit up and reach for his mother. When he realises that there's tape holding him in place he begins to cry.

Noah's mother pushes in front of Ethan to hold her son's hand. "Don't go upsetting him!"

"I'm sorry, I need to establish whether his memory his been affected." He gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile before turning back to his young patient. "But it's okay if you don't want to think about that," he tells Noah. "You've had a nasty shock. How about I ask some easier questions? Can you tell me what year it is?"

"2017," the child sobs.

"Well done," Ethan says. "And what did you have for breakfast this morning?"

"…Toast."

"Do you have a favourite topping? My brother likes strawberry jam, but I can't have it unfortunately, I'm allergic."

Noah's sobbing has calmed but his cheeks remain wet with tears. "I like chocolate spread," he whispers.

"That's a very good choice." Ethan says. He turns to his colleagues "Okay, there are no signs of trauma to the brain but I'd like to arrange a head CT to be on the safe side. And I want ten minute obs."

"Will he be okay?" his mother interrupts.

"He's stable. We're going to monitor him for a while including a scan for his head and of course an X-Ray to confirm his leg is broken, but please try not to worry."

She seems to shrink as a deep breathe tumbles from her mouth. "Thank you, Doctor. Sorry for snapping, I just-"

"It's understandable," Ethan tells her. "It's hard when a loved one is suffering."

"We lost his Dad last year." She looks down at her lap and her face rearranges itself as she struggles to remain composed. "I don't think I could go through that again."

Ethan nods his understanding. "There are no indications you will. Noah's doing really well."

"Yeah." She strokes her son's curls off his forehead. "Be brave for Mummy."

"I'll be back to check on him in a short while," Ethan says, "but you'll have the nurses around at all times if you need anything. I'll see you later, Noah."

He heads back out to collect his next patient file but spots Alicia just leaving the staff room, scraping her slightly damp hair back into a bun. His chest thumps at the awkwardness of what he needs to do.

"Better?" he asks as she joins him.

"So much!" She gives an embarrassed smile. "Thank you."

He checks no-one is watching before handing her the packet that had fallen from her bag. "Um, you dropped this."

She snatches it off him and buries it in her scrub pocket, refusing to meet his eyes. "Better safe than sorry," she mutters.

"Right."

"I don't take it often," she says. "I was really drunk, I can't remember if we, you know, used a-"

"It's none of my business," Ethan interrupts.

She shuffles from one foot to the other. "Yeah but I don't want you to think I'm a slapper."

"I don't."

"Honestly? Because you are being a little short-"

"I've got more important things on my mind." He kicks himself for his bluntness. It wasn't long ago he was wondering if he stood a chance of impressing her but now he's screwed that one up. "Sorry."

"It's Cal, isn't it?" She takes his hand. "How's he holding up?"

Ethan doesn't think he has the energy to explain all over again what he told Charlie. "Um, okay," he lies.

She looks at him questioningly. "That's not what your face is saying."

Ethan grimaces. "No. You're right. He's… he's not taken the news well."

"I can hardly imagine having to come to terms with something like that."

Ethan picks a patient file from the desk and stares at the notes. After a few moments silence during which he hasn't been able to focus on the file, he realises Alicia's still waiting for a response. He doesn't think he can talk about Cal without getting upset and yet he can't discuss the patient because the words are blurry and he has no idea what condition he or she has.

He passes Alicia the file. "Um, do you want to take the lead on this one?"

"Absolutely," she says. "But, you know, if you want to talk, I'm always here."

He feels his cheeks heat up again. "Thank you, Doctor Monroe," he replies, determined to keep things professional. He can't let himself get distracted when Cal needs him so badly.

* * *

Cal chews at the bit of loose skin next to his fingernail. It's beginning to get sore but it seems stupid fretting over a small cut on his finger when there's much worse pain radiating from his leg.

Ethan, true to his word, had brought him at much as he could to keep him occupied; laptop, books, DVDs, even a puzzle magazine that would be far better suited to his brother than himself. But none of the items _work_. They don't make him forget. And if he's lucky enough to get distracted by a film for a minute or two, then he has to remember all over again. And each time, it seems to get harder.

The nurse had changed his dressing again earlier and, as always, he'd looked away. Cal knows now, he's a coward. What kind of doctor can't even examine their own injury? And if he can't do that, he's sure as hell not brave enough to try to piece together some semblance of a future.

Ethan's so adamant he'll walk again that it hurts. It's hard to see the point in learning. If he put his mind to it, he's sure he can stand on a prosthetic limb, maybe even take a few steps, but it all seems such a huge effort just to tick a box. Nothing will be the same even if he can walk. He can't be a doctor, that's for sure. He can't spend his mornings in the gym and evenings down the pub, looking for someone to spend the night with. No woman will look twice at him now. Everything he loves was lost at the same time as his leg.

He feels the familiar sting of his eyes and he digs his fists into them. He's fed up of crying and yet he can't seem to stop. The moment he wakes is the hardest, especially because in his dreams he still has both of his legs. His brother's sympathetic glances are the next worst. The sadness on Ethan's face is so hard to bear he keeps sending him away, yet every time he does so, he immediately regrets it.

Cal exhales deeply and opens his eyes. It feels like he's been stuck in this hospital room for months. He'd even checked with the nurse earlier and she confirmed it had only been four days since he came round. This is his life now, he supposes, confined to a bed, relying on other people to look after him. He doesn't think he has the strength to put up with that forever.

There's a knock on his door and he blinks away the tears in time to see Charlie shuffling through the half open door. Cal fidgets uncomfortably and curses his brother for not passing the message on.

"Ethan was meant to tell everyone I didn't want visitors," he says.

"He did. I chose to ignore him." Charlie gives an impish smile. "Come on, you're not going to send an old man all the way back down the stairs are you?"

Cal considers pointing out that there's a lift but it's easier to remain silent and so he does so, picking again at the skin on his finger.

"Just a chat? While I'm here?"

Cal exhales not bothering to keep his disproval subtle. "Sounds as if you'll do what you want, anyway, Charlie."

The nurse helps himself to the bedside chair. "That's the spirit!" he replies.

Cal stares glumly at his lap and waits for the moment Charlie asks him how he's doing. He doesn't have it in him to lie and say everything's okay, yet if he makes an attempt at the truth he's sure he'll have another breakdown.

Charlie thumbs through one of the obligatory booklets a nurse left behind. The front cover was enough to put Cal off; a smiling woman in the countryside, two prosthetic limbs proudly on display under her shorts.

"Have you read this?" Charlie asks after a few minutes of silence.

Cal shakes his head.

"Well it's hardly The Lancet but it's less patronising than you might expect." He squints towards the heap of books Ethan had piled on the bedside table. "Unless you're particularly engrossed in The Hobbit?"

Cal frowns. He's not in the mood for jokes. The Hobbit is Ethan's and his brother had misguidedly thought he might like to read it. He's convinced the book's not to his taste, but if forced to pick, he'd opt for that over the customary leaflet any day.

"Did Ethan tell you? They've pronounced eight people dead from the crash," Charlie says suddenly.

The statement was so unexpected that Cal turns his head to finally make eye contact.

"Eight so far," Charlie continues. "Grace is still critical. Potentially others."

"Have they figured out what went wrong?" Cal surprises himself by asking.

"It was a kid. He came forwards and admitted he was playing with a drone and flew it too close to the helicopter."

Heat rushes to Cal's head. "Does he realise how much damage he's caused?"

"I heard he was very upset, yes."

"Upset? People have died! He- he's done _this_ to me! I'd like to think he was more than just upset."

Charlie shrugs. "He's a kid, Cal. It was an accident. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you."

Cal scowls and looks away. Charlie's insinuation that he wasn't of fit mind to discuss this, grates his already frayed nerves. He wonders if the nurse is right. Perhaps this is how it's going to be from now on, everyone tiptoeing around him, avoiding difficult discussions because too many bad things have happened to him already.

"How's everyone else?" he asks. He's ashamed to admit it to himself but it's less because he cares and more to prove to Charlie he's capable of the conversation.

"Coping," Charlie says. "Iain's off sick but he's okay. Connie's obviously on leave too to be with Grace and to give her own injuries time to heal." He pauses. "I think everyone's still in shock, if I'm honest."

Cal nods but he doesn't reply.

"Safe to say that shock is extended up here too?" Charlie asks.

There's a lump in Cal's throat as he turns to look at his colleague. "Charlie, don't," he pleads.

"Don't what?"

"Don't try to get me to talk about how I feel," he says slowly. "Did my brother put you up to this?"

"I told you, Ethan said I wasn't welcome to visit."

Cal falls silent again. In some ways it's easier to talk to Charlie than Ethan. The nurse doesn't know him inside out like his brother does and so their conversation comes without preconceived ideas of how well he is or isn't coping. Charlie's distant enough to view Cal's pain without absorbing it but the same can't be said for Ethan, his brother looks more drained every time he visits.

He pulls his good leg up to his chest and rests his head on it. He doesn't understand why everyone is so keen on getting him to talk; mostly Ethan, but often the doctors and nurses and now Charlie. He can't talk his way to a resolution. Words of comfort aren't going to grow back his leg.

He closes his eyes before he speaks, just in case. Charlie has seen him cry too many times over the past year already. "Do you remember me telling you that whenever things go wrong I run away?"

"When little Matilda was sick. I remember."

"Well how am I meant to run when I can't even walk?"

"You don't run," Charlie says. "Not this time. You stay and you face it and you do whatever it takes to get better."

Cal shakes his head. It all sounds impossible.

"I'm not saying it will be easy, Cal, but you can do it. I believe in you."

"Charlie, I can't even look at it." He swallows. "The- the stump."

"Then maybe that's the first bridge to cross."

Cal's quiet as he considers. He knows Charlie's right; he needs to take things one at a time, work on coming to terms with it before he starts on rehabilitation. But then he imagines what lies beneath the bandages and he feels sick. It's easier not to look. It's easier to lie here, trying not to think about it and hoping everything will sort itself out.

He shakes his head. "I don't know if I can."


	4. Chapter 4

Trying to make the most being snowed in to get some writing done but it's not going well. Luckily this part was already written. Please take heed of my customary warning that the things Cal says/thinks about himself and his injury are not a reflection of my own thoughts towards people with a disability. & I promise this story will soon become positive enough for me not to have to write that at the beginning of every chapter!

Nice long part so please spare me a few minutes of your time to read and review. I really appreciate all feedback, even just a few words.

 **Casualtyfandom86:** Thank you so much. I'm really pleased you're enjoying reading this and it's so kind to compliment my writing. Hope it continues to improve every chapter - it's a lot to live up to but I will if I can! Hope you like the update.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thanks for reviewing. Ethan's such a nice person and good doctor that I like to think he'd be comforting to his patients whatever he has going on in his head, but it can't be easy. Cal would certainly benefit from getting support from Ethan, Charlie and the team but the question is, will he let them support him? You're certainly right that it's going to be hard for him to adjust. Thanks again and hope you enjoy this next chapter too.

 **casualtyfics111:** Wow, thank you, that's so kind of you to say. There are so many good writers on here but I always try my best so I'm glad you think it's paying off. Thanks for reviewing and hope you like this next installment too.

* * *

 **4.**

* * *

Cal glares at his hospital room door hoping that if he does so for long enough, someone will walk in and free him from his boredom. Ethan had told him to _use his time wisely_ , whatever that means, but Cal had already watched film after film and he thinks starting another will result in him throwing his laptop across the room. He's not that far gone that he doesn't know he'd regret breaking his laptop.

It's only been a few hours since Ethan went but it feels like days. His brother's visit was only ever going to be a short one as it was before his shift, but it had been cut even shorter as Cal had refused to speak to him and Ethan had given up and left. Cal knows he's not easy company at the moment. He wishes he could snap out of it but every time his brother tells an interesting story and there's a cusp of a joke on his lips in reply, he remembers about his leg and how it's futile trying to be happy.

Yet now he's by himself again, he wishes he hadn't been so hasty to get rid of his brother. The visits irritate him because Ethan usually wants to talk about his recovery and what he should or shouldn't be doing to aid it. But his little brother has spent years telling him off so there's also a sense of familiarity in it that's vaguely comforting. Besides, he likes the distraction. As long as Ethan's talking about something other than his leg, he can focus on the words his brother's saying and not the words screaming in the back of his mind.

Impulsively, he reaches for his phone and dials Ethan via the frequent entries on call history. He's not sure what he wants to say to his brother but maybe something along the lines of _I'm sorry, come back, I won't blank you this time_. The phone rings and rings until the voicemail kicks in. Cal listens to his brother's stupid, unfunny message and then wordlessly ends the call. He sighs. It's probably just as well, he'd only drag Ethan's mood down too.

It occurs to him that he might be depressed. He doesn't want to put a label on it, there are too many floating around already: _amputee, patient, disabled_ , but he knows he's never felt this low before, not even after everything happened with Taylor and Matilda or when the truth about their parentage came out and he thought he might have inherited an incurable disease.

He wonders if that's why this happened. He escaped the Huntington's so he's been cursed with this instead. Perhaps he deserves it. Perhaps this is karma at its finest. One of the problems about being bedridden is that he's had chance to think about all the times he's done wrong. He imagines being surrounded by all the people he's hurt and them pointing at him, telling him he had it coming. There are the girls he cheated on, whose hearts he broke, bosses whose work he shirked, the woman who raised him whom he failed to care for, his birth mother whom he barely knew. Worse than that, his baby brother, who he lied to, stole from, upset with a constant flow of jibes and put downs. Well, he's got his comeuppance now and he fucking hates it.

And yet he still can't help but question _why_ _him_. Couldn't the helicopter have aimed for someone who had less to lose?

Cal slams his hand down on the mattress. It feels as though his head is about to explode. He wishes he could stop thinking, even for a minute, but every time one thought process ends, another starts. On cue, he's hit with a vision of the future. The thought of spending the rest of his life feeling like this is almost as hard to bear as the thought of spending it without half a leg, but he doesn't see how anything will improve. It's like being held prisoner with no hope of release.

But beneath the commotion of his thoughts, he knows accepting the injury would make things easier. He just doesn't see how he _can_. He's watched athletes and ex-soldiers on television do amazing things without all four of their limbs and yet he feels no kinship with them. He doesn't possess whatever attribute drives them to succeed. Besides, he doesn't want medals; he just wants his old life back.

Charlie had suggested the first step to feeling better is for him to look at his leg. It's not something he wants to do. Every time the nurses have changed his dressing, he's fixed his eyes on one of the posters on the wall and can now quote most of them word for word. But he's a doctor. He's seen all kinds of injuries. And if, by some miracle, it's not as bad as he's expecting, it might release him from his inner torment.

He tugs the duvet off and stares at his legs. The right is severely bruised but it's the left that makes his stomach churn. The leg ends abruptly and even though it's swathed in bandages, dark bruises have travelled onto the uncovered skin. He yanks his three-quarter length joggers up to his thigh. His knee is intact but somehow looks wrong too, as if it's pointless being there when it doesn't have a full leg beneath it to operate.

Cal drags what's left of his leg up to rest on his healthy thigh. Until now he's remained as stationary as possible and so despite the hollow ache, he's relieved he can still move it. His hands inch across the bandage, trying to find the end without pressing down on the wound. But once he has the end of the bandage between his fingers, he freezes. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath and pleads with the universe to make whatever he sees okay.

Then he starts to unwind.

* * *

Ethan enters the staffroom and heads straight for his locker, ignoring the throng of his colleagues already in there. The one-sided conversation with Cal has drained him of what little energy he had and he wants to conserve what little's left for patients rather than idle small talk.

His briefcase is bulging with paperwork, research into amputation recovery and progress of prosthetics which he hopes to show his brother once he's strong enough to take an interest, and it barely fits into the tight constraints of his locker. He shoves the door shut and holds it in place as he twists the lock. He barely manages a step away before he realises his stethoscope is still trapped in there. The groan that slips from his lips is accidental but loud enough to alert his colleagues.

"You okay?" A familiar northern accent comes from just behind him.

"Yeah," he says. "Sorry."

As he fights to open the locker, Alicia places a concerned hand on his. "Has something happened?"

"No. Nothing has happened, that's the problem," he hisses. "Nothing I do can fix anything." His key still won't budge and in frustration he slams his palm against the locker. Either he's broken it or he's incapable. The potential reason behind his ineptitude sends a chill down his spine.

"Let me," she says calmly. She takes the key off him and deftly twists it in the lock, the door springing open. "Right, now that's out the way, you can tell me what's really wrong."

Ethan sags. He considers spilling everything to her; how his chest aches every time he watches his brother cry, how he wishes they could go back in time, how it hurts him when Cal refuses to speak but that he doesn't really know what to say either. He wants to tell her that he feels useless, that he's never come across a problem of Cal's that he can't fix before, and that he's suffocating with his own worries but he's buried them to take care of Cal and yet he's failing him anyway.

"It doesn't matter," he eventually stammers. "I, um, I'm okay. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure, anyway!"

"Hmm," she says, sceptically. "Well, on the off chance that's a big fat lie, here's something that might help."

She throws her arms around his neck. Ethan can't help but wish that it was his brother holding him instead but he feels a flush of embarrassment at the childish thought and forces himself to relax into her embrace. It's surprisingly comforting, at least until Max wolf whistles and Jez shouts something about Alicia identifying her next prey.

She drops him and throws a firm "not funny" in the direction of the two chuckling men.

Ethan retrieves his errant stethoscope and heads out of the staffroom to start his shift early.

"Ethan!" Alicia catches up with him just a few metres down the corridor. "I'm sorry. They're insensitive idiots but they're just having a laugh." She pauses. "Max should know better. I heard he was there when-"

"That wasn't why I left," he says hastily. "I wanted to get to work."

"But you're on the same shift as me," she reminds him. "We have fifteen minutes still."

"Yes, well, a head start can't hurt."

She gives a tight lipped smile. "Sure you're okay?"

He gives a robotic nod and continues down the corridor before she has chance to interrogate him further. He's working in minors today and so he selects a file from the tray and scans through the notes. One word halts him. His heart thumps against his rib cage. He doesn't want to treat a patient with _that_. He doesn't ever want to treat that kind of patient but knows his Hippocratic Oath forbids him from spurning a condition due to personal preference. He just doesn't see why it has to be today he does it when his barriers are already weakened and penetrable. He wonders if anyone would notice if he slid the file back onto the pile.

"Even if you blame me too," a voice says, "it's imperative we discuss work related issues."

Ethan turns and at the sight of Lily by his side, he jumps.

"Ethan, I have you heard a word I've been saying?" she asks, frowning. "I've been calling your name."

"I- um, yeah," he stammers. "Actually, no, sorry. Not the name calling bit. World of my own." He shuts the file before Lily notices what's on the patient's records and works out why he was distracted. "Lily, I don't blame you for what happened."

"Your brother does."

"Cal's… hurting. Please don't take what he said to you to heart."

Lily pauses and stares at the ground, suddenly uncertain. "It _was_ my call though. I performed the procedure. I-"

"You saved his life, Lily."

"I amputated his leg."

Ethan takes a shaky breath. "You did what you had to. What any of us would have done, Cal included."

"Do you mean that?" Lily asks softly.

"Yes. Don't feel guilty. Cal's going to be okay, I'll make sure of it." She gives him a grateful smile but Ethan can tell nothing he'll say will fully reassure her. He pauses. "Um, what was the work related thing?"

"Oh." Her shoulders relax. "Cubicle three: emphysema. Don't trust him when he says he's stopped smoking. He was very convincing until I caught him sneaking out for a cigarette."

"Thanks for the heads up. I'll check on him shortly," Ethan says. He uses the closed file to point in the direction of the adjacent cubicle. "I have a patient I should examine first."

"I'll let you get on," she says. "But, Ethan. Thanks."

He smiles his response but as soon as he turns back to the cubicle he feels his face drop. He takes a deep breath and pulls the curtain to the side.

"Hello, Joanna, I'm Doctor Hardy," he begins. His patient is in her mid-forties but looks older, a heavily lined face suggesting a difficult life. Her arm is in a temporary sling and there's a slight abrasion to her forehead. "It says here you, um, fell."

"My l-legs gave way," she stammers. "H-had to be when I was by the coffee table, d-didn't it? Not a soft l-landing."

"You landed on the coffee table?"

"Yes," she says. Her injured arm jerks and she winces. "This b-blasted disease has made me a- a klutz!"

Ethan tries to supresses the shiver that runs through him. He avoids looking at both his notes and his patient and blinks several times. "You have Huntington's Disease," he states, matter of fact.

"Guilty."

"From first impression, I'd estimate mid-stage progression?"

"You're g-generous," she says. "My c-consultant says latter s-stage."

Ethan bows his head. "Right. And- And do you have appropriate support at home?"

"C-carers. Three of them. L-lovely ladies."

"It says you were found alone." He frowns. "Where we the carers when you fell?"

His patient throws him a pleading look. "Nikita was r-running late. R-ruby couldn't stay. Wouldn't w-want her to; she's g-got a little one to pick up from n-nursery."

"That shouldn't have happened."

"D-don't tell," she begs. "They're good g-girls. Do a lot f-for me."

Ethan shakes his head. "I should really report it," he says. "It's negligence." The expression on his patients face causes him to sag. "I'll think about it, okay? For now, let's focus on you." He reads the monitor she's attached to. "The good news is your pulse is healthy. I do want to rub a blood test though, just to eliminate the possibilities it was anything other than your Huntington's that caused the fall."

"N-needles?"

"Afraid so," Ethan says. "But, Nurse…" he peers over to the nurses' station and calls over the first nurse that makes eye contact. "…Miller is very experienced at taking blood samples. You'll barely feel a thing."

"Th-that's if my arm k-keeps still."

Ethan hesitates. "Do you, um, have any control at all over the contractions?"

He knows the answer but the shock as she says no is almost physical, like being shoved in the chest. He's grateful that Robyn is busying herself with the blood sample so that the patient is distracted while he composes himself.

"May I take a look at your arm?" he asks. With consent he unties the cloth sling from behind her shoulder and places it on a pillow on the patient's lap. Her arm flinches as if she doesn't want him to examine it, but he knows the movement is involuntary. "Are the tremors making the pain worse?"

She nods.

"Once I've reviewed your existing medication, I'll get you something to help." He works his hands along her arm, checking for any contusions or swelling. "Can you wiggle your fingers please?"

She manages the movement without problem.

"Okay, looks like a simple fracture but we'll know more after the X-Ray. Nurse Miller, can you get that booked?" He turns back to his patient. "I'll be back with the results once we have them but in the meantime Robyn here will look after you."

"Y-you haven't told me w-what you d-decided."

"Ah," Ethan says. He knows that accidents happen; his mum and brother were both injured while under Cal's care, but he can't help thinking this could have been avoided if she hadn't been left alone.

"They're the b-best carers I've h-had," she continues. "P-partner didn't want to help. These g-girls do. D-don't take that f-from me too."

Guiltily, Ethan nods. He's still sure he should report it, to their workplace if not social services, but he can't bring himself to deliver another blow to the already fragile woman. "You're certainly persuasive," he says, with a smile. "Okay. I won't report them."

"Used t-to be in m-marketing," she says. "G-glad to see I still have the s-skill." Her body jerks again. "Thank you, D-Doctor."

"You're welcome. See you in a short while."

Ethan exits the cubicle with her slurred speech echoing in his mind. He got used to the way his biological mum spoke but that was before his own diagnosis. Now, it's impossible to listen to someone with deteriorated language without imagining how his own words might be stolen from him.

All he wants is for someone to promise him he won't end up like that. But he's a doctor and a realist and knows no amount of reassurance will free him from the inevitable onset. His chest clenches and he realises his brother is going through the same. Nothing he says can convince Cal he's going to be okay when he's already lost his leg.

Ethan stumbles into the next cubicle in daze. The patient is struggling for breath, his oxygen mask around his neck rather than his mouth. Ethan jumps into action, repositioning the mask and placing his stethoscope on the man's chest. The wheezing from his lungs is a concern and he hastily releases the breaks on the bed and calls for help to wheel him through to Resus.

Ethan can feel his phone going in his pocket. It's either Cal or a junk call but he's not able to check while his patient's condition is worsening.

"Okay, try to stay calm," he tells the patient. "We're going to help you breathe easier." He recognises the man as the emphysema patient Lily described during their handover. "It's important to be honest," he continues, "so we can treat you most effectively. Have you had a cigarette recently? Don't speak, just nod or shake your head."

The patient moves his head from side to side.

Ethan's sceptical but he knows better than to rile a breathless patient. "Okay." He calls Charlie over. "Can we get him on a nebuliser? And I want an urgent chest CT."

He watches the monitor carefully as Charlie fits the devise and is relieved to see the readings improve. As his patient stabilises he chances a quick look at his phone. The missed call is from Cal. He excuses himself and huddles in the admin cupboard as he phones his brother back. The call dials out. Ethan sighs. It's probably nothing serious, but it's the first time Cal has initiated conversation since his accident and whether there's an emergency or he just wants company, Ethan isn't going to let him down. If Cal won't answer, he'll go and visit.

* * *

Cal can't stop staring at it. His throat is tight, his chest heaving and his cheeks hot with tears, yet he can't drag his eyes away.

The skin is a multitude of shades, blues and reds and blacks, and is swollen so violently it's barely recognisable as a leg. Amid the swelling, the wound is a thick, dark line held together by spidery stiches. Half his calf has gone but it's the lack of a foot which turns his shivery tears into loud, heartbroken sobs.

It's every bit as bad as his worst suspicions.

It feels like the amputation has just been carried out in front of his eyes. With his injured leg naked and stretched out before him, his breaths grow panicky. There's no way out of this. There's no way to get rid of the ugly stump. The room feels oppressive with the truth that nothing he can do can fix this and he splutters for air. His hands clutch at his t-shirt. He tugs the material away from his neck as if doing so will also open up his windpipe. He wishes he could disappear.

He doesn't realise anyone else is in the room until the sound of his name breaks through the din inside his head. As his sobs further obstruct his airway a choking noise is thrust from his throat. His eyes sting. He doesn't understand how _that_ can be _his_ leg.

"Cal." A pause. "Cal, look at me."

He feels paralysed, vision locked on his leg, unable to think of anything else.

"Caleb, please. Look at me."

Gentle hands take the side of his head and slowly turn it. The hands are stroking his cheeks now but there's still enough pressure for Cal's gaze to gradually shift from his leg to the concerned face of his brother.

"It's okay, it's okay, just-"

Cal's eyes flicker back to his leg.

"No, no, Caleb, focus on me. Try to calm your breathing."

Cal's lips flap wordlessly. He makes a gagging noise. His lungs hurt.

The stroking of his face becomes frantic. "Cal, breathe out or I'm going to have to go and get help." Ethan's so close to him their chests are almost touching. "Come on, match it to my breathing. Yeah? Yeah, exhale, that's it."

Cal's dizzy but he tries to do as his brother tells him, guided by Ethan's exaggerated breaths. Eventually he manages to calm himself, only the occasional sob getting in the way of normal breathing. He hangs his head. He didn't know until that's it's possible to feels so empty yet so full of pain at the same time.

Ethan's hands leave him but his brother remains nervously in front of him looking like he's walked into a disaster zone. Cal doesn't want to see that pitying look on his face so he pulls his good leg up to his chest and buries his head in his arms. He doesn't have the energy to prevent his heaving shoulders giving away that he's still crying.

Time drags on, the silence as painful as words. It's obvious Ethan doesn't know what to say. This is one situation where even his brother can't put things right. The years of relying on Ethan to patch up his messes were always going to end one day, but Cal's not ready for it to happen yet.

After minutes that feel like hours, Ethan clears his throat. "That needs re-bandaging."

Cal's chest twinges. His little brother's still trying to be the practical support but the wobble in his voice reveals how hopeless it all is.

"Shall I do it or do you want me to get a nurse?"

"You," Cal whispers. He wants it covered and out of sight as soon as possible.

"Okay," Ethan says.

Cal remains still as Ethan hunts through the cabinet for spare bandages. There's a clatter as the drawer bangs shut and then the bid dips as Ethan sits down. Cal lets his brother rest his leg in his lap but keeps his eyes hidden, scared of another breakdown if he catches a glimpse of the injury.

Ethan quietly narrates what he's doing but somewhere between finishing the final wrap of the bandage and affixing it with tape, the conversation changes. "Cal, why did you..?"

Cal doesn't think he can explain to Ethan how he'd somehow hoped removing the bandages would reveal a perfectly healthy leg. He shrugs. "Trying to get my head around it," he mutters into his arms.

He doesn't need to look at his brother to be sure he gives an anxious nod in response.

"All finished," Ethan says, but he keeps hold of Cal's leg. "Caleb, if you touch the area," he continues, "like this…" He lightly massages the end of the stump. "It's meant to help you get used to it. The- the leaflets said."

Ethan's hands are gentle but the sensation's weird, Cal's mind not yet adjusted to touch on somewhere that had previously been unreachable. He raises his head and looks at his brother uncertainly.

"Do you want to try?"

Cal's brain's beginning to catch up, to realise that that's the end of his leg now and it makes him light-headed. He lifts his leg out of his brother's hold and gives a short shake of his head.

Ethan sighs. "Okay, but at some point you need to start taking the advice."

Cal doesn't see why he has to take anyone's advice. He wasn't responsible for the accident so why is it now down to him to put his injury right? Yet he knows that if their positions were reversed, Ethan would be doing everything by the book, reading the pamphlets, doing the exercises and praising all the staff. But he can't do that. Every time he tries it feels as if there's a heavy weight on top of him, pushing him back down onto his sick bed. Undressing his leg was the furthest he got and that ended in disaster. He's not Ethan, he'll never be, and the last thing he needs is his brother reminding him of how badly he's coping. He glowers at his brother, the earlier desire to have his company now lost.

"I know it's hard," Ethan continues. "But if you're sensible now it will make the coming months much easier."

Cal wants to point out that it's not as simple as flicking a switch and becoming sensible. Instead, he folds his arms across his chest and deepens his frown. "Stop talking to me like I'm a kid."

Ethan opens his mouth then shuts it again and shuffles uncomfortably. "That wasn't my intention."

He'd been expecting a retort but this is worse. His brother refusing to argue with him is proof that something is wrong. Frustration causes his thoughts to knot together. His leg is butchered, his life is ruined and his little brother is treating him like he's an idiot. He glares at Ethan through narrowed eyes. He needs an argument; he needs to refocus the pain somewhere other than his leg.

"How could you let them do this to me?" he demands off his brother.

Ethan flinches. "Cal, I'm sorry, but there was no other option. It had to be done to save your life."

"Then you should have let me die."

For a moment Ethan looks like he's been slapped but then his body slumps and his chin trembles and he starts to blink furiously. "You- you don't mean that?"

There's a twinge of guilt in Cal's chest but his mouth's on autopilot now, the words he's been smothering for days tumbling out one after the other. "Why would you think I wanted to live like this?"

"You've had a terrible shock," Ethan says. "But it's only been a week. Things will improve, I promise, you-"

"I'll never be the same," Cal says. "I'll never be _normal_."

"Caleb, you have _so_ much still to live for."

"Name one thing."

Ethan falters. His lips flap. Cal longs for him to say something to turn his mood around.

"You- you can do anything," Ethan stutters.

"Except for walk," Cal says. He blinks and a tear trickles down his cheek. He doesn't bother to wipe it; his skin is already hot and damp from crying. Ethan tries to take his hand but he snatches it away.

"You can do that too," Ethan says in a small voice. "I won't lie, it will take time and effort, but you'll get there, I know you will."

"Admit it, Ethan, my life is over."

"That's not true."

Cal shakes his head. He wants to believe it but he doesn't see how things will ever be okay again. "Easy for you to say," he snaps. "You don't know how this feels."

Ethan takes a shuddery breath. "How it feels to have your health taken from you? I have a pretty good idea."

Cal looks at his brother and is shocked by the hurt in his eyes. He can't believe he's forgotten about Ethan's diagnosis. Up until the last week it had been the only thing on his mind. "That's different," he mutters reluctantly.

"Yeah. Yeah it is." Ethan repositions himself on the mattress so that he's fully facing his brother. "And you know the biggest difference? You're going to get well again. From here, things will only improve and you can live a- a normal life."

Cal's silent. His head aches with thoughts.

"I don't want to argue over who's got it worse but, Cal, I _do_ know how it feels."

"The difference the way I see it," Cal continues. " _This_ could have been avoided."

"Yeah, if the helicopter hadn't crashed…"

"If you'd tried harder. There would have been a way around it, I know it. Or was it revenge, Ethan? You're still sore it wasn't me who got the gene?"

Ethan's bottom lip quivers. "That's not fair."

"What was it I overheard you say? _Caleb's just perfect?_ You couldn't bear that, could you, Ethan? After all the things I've done. Well guess what," he chokes, "I'm not perfect any more. I'm defective just like you."

Ethan's eyes are shining. "Cal, I'm not letting you push me away. I want to help."

"You don't. You just want to be the martyr that fixes me." Cal's barely knows what he's saying anymore. "Well you can't this time." His voice breaks on the final syllable. "You can't."

Ethan looks away but Cal doesn't miss him dabbing at his eyes. A lump sticks in his throat. After Ethan had been diagnosed, he'd promised himself he wouldn't upset his brother again and now he'd done just that. His head's still hot with anger but he doesn't want to punish his little brother.

"You'd better go, Ethan," he says, desperate to get rid of him before he says anything else he'll regret.

Without speaking or even looking at him, Ethan gets up and leaves.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again to all my readers and reviewers. Please keep the feedback coming :)

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thank you for your review. They're both suffering, that's for sure, Cal with his injury and Ethan watching his brother's pain on top of his own Huntington's diagnosis. It will get easier eventually, but I'm not promising it will be plain sailing! Hope you enjoy the update.

 **CBloom2:** Thank you for reviewing. You're spot on! Cal didn't mean any of it but he's hurt and lashing out. I imagined it as him subconsciously wanting to shift the pain from being about his leg to being about an argument with his brother. Ethan is definitely hurting too from his own diagnosis but being the caring soul he is, he's burying that to look after Cal. He knows his brother well enough to know he's just lashing out, but that doesn't mean he's not effected by the words. Hope you enjoy this next chapter and that this is towards that 'breakthrough' you mentioned.

 **casualtyfics111:** Thank you, you're really kind. I appreciate your reviews so much! It's always a relief to hear that sentence structure etc works because sometimes I just don't think it sounds right even after several edits. I actually find present tense easier to write in - I switched for one fic a while back and now every time I try to go into past again I really struggle to maintain it. Thank you again and I hope you like this next chapter too.

* * *

 **5.**

* * *

Ethan closes the door of his flat behind him and leans on it. The occupational therapists were friendly but thorough and Ethan doesn't know whether he can allow himself to feel optimistic. He'd noticed them exchange a glance when he confirmed their first-floor flat was serviced by only a single lift and they had spent a considerable amount of time measuring the angle between Cal's bedroom door and the short corridor to the lounge and kitchen.

Ethan just wants to get Cal home now. He's convinced his brother's mood will improve once he's back where he belongs but knows any risks marked on the assessment will cause a delay. He can't change their level in the building or the narrowness of the corridor, but he has an idea of how he can contest any of their concerns.

He dials his brother and holds the phone against his ear. He paces as he waits for Cal to pick up. When the voicemail kicks in he sighs deeply and ends the call but immediately tries again, hoping, but not expecting, persistence to pay off.

But then there's a small voice on the other end of the line. "Leave me alone."

Ethan's heart sinks. "Not going to happen," he says.

There's a silence during which Ethan checks his phone screen to make sure his brother hasn't hung up on him.

"Well what do you want then?"

"I have a plan."

"A plan," Cal echoes dully.

"Yes, look, I'll be in soon and then we can talk more."

"You're coming in?" Cal says, sounding surprised.

"Yes and don't even think of telling me not to, Caleb. Shutting me out is not going to work."

There's another pause but this time Ethan doesn't feel the need to check the call remains connected.

"Okay," Cal says eventually. "See you later."

"I'll be an hour maximum," Ethan says. "I'll see you in a bit."

He ends the call and smiles into the living room. The flat has been quiet with Cal gone but Ethan's confident it won't remain that way for much longer. He'd never thought he'd miss Cal's constant singing and his mess spread throughout the flat as much as he does.

Ethan allows himself time for a coffee, knowing that he could be busy with Cal for a while, but drinks it standing, not trusting himself to have the energy to get up from the sofa if he sits down.

Since Cal's accident he's not been sleeping well. He's tried a different remedy every night but nothing works. Camomile tea tastes disgusting, the smell of lavender makes him sneeze, and background music fails to drown out the sound of a saw shattering Cal's bone; the memory as vivid as when he heard it for real. He's tried working night shifts or going for a late-night run but that does nothing but postpone the problem. Counting sheep had seemed inane so he'd challenged himself to recite the name of every bone in the human body, but that had been the most ill-advised of the lot, considering the tibia immediately reminded him of Cal.

But last night had been harder to sleep than normal. The argument with Cal had echoed around his head from the moment his head touched with pillow until daylight decided for him that it was futile still trying to sleep. Even several hours later, he's still replaying odd words and sentences and considering how he could have handled it better.

His own words to Lily had been to not take Cal's accusations to heart and yet he can't deny that he's still upset about some of the things that were said. He can cope with his brother being angry, even blaming him for not preventing the amputation, but to accuse of wanting this as revenge had been one step too far. However frustrated he's been with his brother, he's never wished him harm.

Ethan rubs at his forehead. When Cal's been in trouble before, there's always been a tangible solution to put things right. But this is something he can't fix through practicality. His brother needs emotional support and, while Ethan's prepared to give that, he's worried Cal will continue to push him away until something pushes him over the edge.

* * *

Ethan scuttles past the reception desk undetected but before he can make it to the store cupboard, he hears his name being called. He swivels to face Charlie and wonders, not for the first time, if the nurse possesses some kind of omnipresence.

"Didn't think you were in today?" Charlie says.

"I'm not," Ethan replies. "I'm on my way to visit Cal, just needed to pick something up from here first."

"How is he?"

Ethan checks over his shoulder. "Struggling," he says, in a low voice. "But, all being well, he should be discharged in a few days. Hopefully he'll be more comfortable at home." He pauses as something occurs to him. "Actually, that's a point. I don't suppose you know who I submit my leave request to in Mrs Beauchamp's absence?"

"You don't need me to know," Charlie says. He nods towards her office. "She's back."

"Back?" Ethan peers through the narrow window in the door and can see the bowed head of his clinical lead. "Does that mean Grace..?"

"No. No change." He rubs the back of his head. "No-one knew she was coming in today, but that's Connie for you."

Ethan shuffles uncomfortably. "I was hoping to book a few days off for when Cal's discharged. Do you suppose she's interruptible?"

"I suspect no less interruptible than usual."

"Right," he says, unconvinced. He looks tentatively towards her office and reminds himself that this is for Cal and it's worth getting shouted at if he gets the time off to support him. "Well, no time like the present."

"Give Cal my best," Charlie says.

Ethan nods. He takes short steps as he approaches Connie's office, hoping she'll look up and give him some idea as whether it's advisable to approach. But he gets all the way to her door without her seeing him and he's left with no choice but to knock on the door.

"Yes?" she barks.

He creeps into the room and carefully shuts the door behind him.

"Good to see you back, Mrs Beauchamp," he says politely.

"Is it?" She tucks her hair behind her ear inadvertently revealing a part healed laceration. "What do you want, Doctor Hardy?"

"Yes, right," he says. "I know it's, um, inopportune but I'd like to be permitted a few days leave." He gulps and tries not to let her fiery stare make him nervous. "Cal's likely to be discharged in the next few days and I'd really like to be at home with him while he readjusts."

Her gaze falters and when she looks back at him, he can see something akin to compassion in her eyes. "I heard what happened," she says.

Ethan nods, a familiar sting at the back of his throat.

"That's hard on anyone," she says softly. "No doubt you've both had a big shock."

"He's, um, getting his head around it all still," Ethan admits.

"And you?"

"I'm helping him. Um, trying to. Probably failing."

"I meant are _you_ coming to terms with it."

"Oh." Ethan dips his head. "It doesn't work like that, does it?" He's genuinely curious. "I- I assumed once Cal was okay with it then I would be too."

"Maybe," Mrs Beauchamp says. "Or maybe Cal will follow your cues."

Ethan nods. He knows he has the ability to help his brother and he's hopeful that his plan will encourage Cal to take an interest in his recovery and feel positive about the future. It just depends whether he's willing to try or whether it will take a bit of what Cal would call tough love.

"But to answer your question," Connie continues. "Let me know which days you need and I'll approve it, even if it means getting a locum in."

"Thank you," he says. "I do appreciate it. I know we're short-staffed."

"Well, I'm back now."

"Yes, of course." His mouth hangs open as he wonders whether it's ruder to enquire about or ignore the condition of her daughter. "How, um, how is-"

"Grace?"

"Yes."

"She's fighting," Connie manages a smile but there are tears in her eyes. "She's going to be just fine, thank you."

Ethan nods. Her tone hadn't been convincing but he decides to go along with the forced positivity. "I'm glad to hear it." He places a hand on the door ready to give his boss some privacy. "Thank you from both Cal and me for approving the leave."

* * *

Ethan peers through the half open door to Cal's hospital room. He uses the opportunity of being unnoticed to observe his brother. Cal's forehead is lined these days, his hair's a mess and he's well overdue a shave. Ethan thinks he seems to hold himself differently too; his shoulders are slumped, chin on his chest and arms folded tightly around himself. Although he's watching something on his laptop, his expression remains neutral.

Ethan clears his throat as he side steps through the door. His brother greets him by removing his headphones and looking up but clearly waiting for him to speak first to gage the mood.

"Sorry if I interrupted your programme," Ethan offers.

"It's fine," Cal says. "I was bored anyway."

Ethan nods. He's familiar with this dance they do after an argument, both unsure whether the other is still angry, but neither wanting to double check for fear that they are. With anyone but his brother he's sure it would feel horribly awkward.

"The doctor says you should be home in a few days," Ethan says.

Cal's face is unreadable. "And how am I meant to get there?"

"Ah," Ethan says. He holds up one finger and rushes back out to the corridor to retrieve the crutches. He brandishes them like a trophy.

Cal shakes his head. "I need a wheelchair."

"Yeah, for longer distances but getting around the flat will be much easier on these."

"Listen, stop waving them about," Cal says. "I can't do it."

Ethan sighs. He continues to hold the crutches but makes sure he keeps them still. "Okay, well, occupational therapy came to inspect the flat this morning. I mean, the assessment's not in writing yet, but I could see what they're thinking. They'll want you to be proficient on crutches because it'll be difficult to navigate the tight corners in a wheelchair."

"I'll just stay in my room then."

"They're not going to discharge you on that proviso."

Cal shrugs.

"Or would you rather stay here?" Ethan watches as his brother fights to find a good comeback. He gives an encouraging nod. "They're crutches, Cal. You've had them before. At least try."

"I-" Cal's mouth opens and closes and his forehead creases as he rewrites the sentence. "I am trying," he says feebly.

Ethan raises his eyebrows.

"Look," Cal says. "I'll do it when I'm ready."

"You're as ready today as you will be tomorrow or next week," Ethan tells him. He's being honest, there are no medical concerns surrounding his brother now, the only thing keeping him in hospital is his lack of mobility. "The only difference is that it's me asking you to give it a go, rather than the physio or a nurse. You can wait for them if you'd rather.

Cal scowls but he shuffles so he's in a sitting position on the edge of the bed. "The physio's an idiot," he says.

Ethan feels a twitch of amusement in his lips. He's met the physio, albeit only once, but he seemed pleasant and he suspects the only reason Cal doesn't like him is because he resents the telling off he got for not doing his exercises. He tries to keep his face neutral as he holds the crutches out to his brother again.

"Fine," Cal says. He huffs his displeasure but snatches the crutches off Ethan and feeds his arms through the loops.

The vigour last less than a second. Ethan's chest aches as his brother looks blankly up at him; he can't ever recall seeing Cal look less confident.

"Just let them hang on your arms for now," he says, sensing Cal's need for instruction. "Grab hold of me and I'll help you up. You stood the other day, remember, so you _can_ do it."

Ethan can feel Cal's nails digging into his shoulders as his brother wobbles to a standing position. He sways to the right, overcompensating for the lightness on his left side. The crutches stab at the floor but eventually he manages to maintain some steadiness.

"And now?" There's a note of panic within Cal's voice.

"Okay, if you've got your balance," Ethan says, calmly, "move the crutches forward a little." He waits as his brother thrusts the sticks across the floor. "Yeah, yeah that's it. And now a little jump to meet them.

Cal wobbles as he lands. "Ethan!"

"It's okay, it's okay." Ethan grabs his waist to steady him. "I won't let you fall."

"Swear?"

"Yes, I promise."

Cal's breathing heavily, his lips are pursed in concentration and his knuckles are white from how tightly he's clinging to the crutches. "Okay, I'm going to go again."

Cal's next hop is as clumsy as his first but he steadies himself this time and the only pause is while he looks to Ethan for reassurance.

"You're getting the hang of it," Ethan says. "Keep going."

Ethan's careful to stick by his side for the next few steps. Although he's positive Cal could manage the crutches without him, he knows the assurance of being caught is boosting his brother's newly fragile confidence and doesn't want to risk him giving up if he moves too far away. His head is light with relief as Cal manages a few more consecutive steps and he can't help but smile at the sign his brother is finally choosing to work on his recovery.

He can see Cal's arms are trembling from the effort and his chest floods with pride as he perseveres anyway. He subtly inches away, giving his brother more space to swing forwards and complete a circuit of the room.

After a sharp intake of breath, Cal manages the final step. He clumsily lowers himself back onto the bed and lets his shoulders relax.

Ethan sits next to him. "You did really well."

Cal wrinkles his nose. "I don't know."

"I wouldn't lie."

Cal nods, looking down at his lap. He's quiet for a moment and his lips tremble as he tries to form a sentence. "Why are you still helping me after everything I said yesterday?"

"Because you're my brother," Ethan tells him. "And besides, I was rather hoping you didn't mean it."

"Angling for an apology much?" Cal gives a half-hearted smile. "But you're right, I didn't mean it. And I am really sorry."

"You didn't mean it when you said you'd rather be dead?"

Cal winces. "No," he says. "I just- I dunno, Ethan, this…" he leaves the sentence incomplete but turns to face him and looks him straight in the eye. "I'm not suicidal or anything, alright? So you don't need to worry."

Ethan releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding. His chest feels lighter already. "Okay, good," he says. "Apology accepted. But Caleb, I'm here to help you, okay? So shout, cry, do whatever you need to, but just don't push me away. Please."

Cal nods but Ethan gets the impression his brother's still holding back from him. He inches closer and places a hand on his brother's back. Cal leans into him but his posture's stiff and Ethan, uncomfortable with initiating the contact, doesn't know what else to do than rub his brother's far shoulder with his hand. It seems to do the trick for Cal relaxes into the embrace and they sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

Eventually Cal sniffs and gives a double tap on Ethan's thigh. "Okay, enough sentimental crap," he says, sounding a little choked. "Can we do another lap?"

"You sure?"

Cal answers in the form of pushing himself back upright with the crutches and giving him an expectant look.

Ethan does as requested and dutifully follows his brother around the room. On a few occasions Cal wobbles, but all but once he manages to find his balance by himself.

Then later, when he's left an exhausted but happier Cal behind in the hospital, and he's about to turn the ignition on in his car, he feels his phone vibrate against his leg. He pulls it out of his pocket and smiles as he reads the one-word message from his brother.

 _Thanks_


	6. Chapter 6

Hope everyone had a good Christmas. I spent most of mine bogged down with a cold and feeling sorry for myself haha - safe to say, in those circumstances, this chapter hasn't been the easiest to write but I hope it's better than I think it is. Please leave a review if you do enjoy it! Fellow writers, any tips on how to write a character's ups and downs without making it seem like you're writing them inconsistently? Appreciate the feedback :)

 **CBloom2:** Without giving too much away, you're right about those hurdles! Really glad you're enjoying the story and hope you continue to. Thank you so much for reviewing.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Thank you so much for your kind review, I love all the detail you left. Glad you thought the aftermath of the argument was realistic - I worried about that, but I can imagine them carrying on like normal without properly talking it through - neither are good at the heart to hearts, are they?! There may be one in a few chapters time though ;) Really pleased you're looking forward to seeing how this progresses and hope you enjoy the update.

 **casualtyfics111:** Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad the emotion came through. That text message at the end was a last minute addition so I'm pleased it worked - I think Cal would have found it easier to say it that way than in person. Hope you like this next chapter too.

* * *

 **6.**

* * *

As Ethan wheels him out of the hospital doors, Cal takes a deep breath. The fresh air feels cold and sticks in the back of his throat. He clutches the straps of his overnight back a little tighter. He's been in hospital a little over a week and yet the outside world has already become a very big and foreign place. He angles his head down and stares at the moving pavement, hoping they don't bump into anyone they know. The thought of making awkward small talk while his colleagues smile sympathetically and try to sneak glances at what's left of his leg makes his skin prickle.

Ethan has parked uncharacteristically close to the entrance and Cal is torn between gratitude and misery. He's used to his brother leaving the vehicle at the rear of the carpark with a customary lecture about the importance of leaving the closer bays for those who need them more. He considers complaining that Ethan clearly now puts him in that category, but secretly can't wait for the sanctuary of the car.

Ethan puts the breaks on the wheelchair, takes his bag from him and shoves it on the back seat. "Need help getting in?"

Cal grunts. His brother looks at him quizzically but he doesn't clarify; he's not sure whether it's a yes or no either. Instead, he readjusts the crutches from their horizontal position across his lap and uses them to push himself upright. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ethan take a step closer but he ignores the gesture and swivels himself around and lowers himself onto the passenger seat. He lands with a bump but he's relieved he made it. He hands the crutches to Ethan and waits as his brother finishes loading the car.

Ethan beams as he takes his place in the driver's seat. "What do you fancy doing this afternoon then?" he asks.

"Doing?"

"You know, watch a film, get a takeaway, I'll even concede to inevitable defeat on the X-Box if you like."

Cal manages a nod. He doesn't want to dent his brother's happiness but none of the suggestions sound appealing. He would rather be down the pub or having a kick around in the park but he knows that's not going to happen any time soon. "I don't mind what we do," he says. "Your choice."

As Ethan pulls out of the hospital drive, Cal shifts his attention to the view from the window. It's nothing spectacular; a small housing estate and a row of shops, but he takes comfort in the fact that the people doing their food shopping or sipping mugs of steaming coffee know nothing about him. If anyone looked through the window of their car as they wait at the traffic lights, all they would see is two men going for a drive, not the young doctor who's just lost his leg.

But no-one glances at them and Cal realises life carries on. The strangers around them have other things to think about; which bread to buy, what top to wear, how they're going to reply to that surprisingly flirtatious text and whether they're going to make it to their appointment on time. Cal longs for the mundanity of that life. He longs to be nagged to stock up on milk and toilet roll and to sulk as he dawdles to the shop. He longs for the ignorance of not knowing how quickly life can fall apart.

His heart lodges in the throat and he quickly turns away from the window. He plays with the car radio, flicking from channel to channel and turning the volume up loud despite the fact he barely knows the song. The upbeat tune does little to drown his thoughts. He realises now: although everything has changed for him, everything else remains the same. The world around him isn't going to warp to suit his new needs. It's him who has to adjust to a new kind of life, one he never asked for and certainly doesn't want.

Ethan readjusts the volume. "Sorry, I can't concentrate with it that loud."

"You're driving, Ethan, not performing a pericardiocentesis."

"And you're thirty-two, not a teenager. Do you honestly like this racket?"

"You're hardly qualified to be a music snob," Cal says, but he concedes, the song is awful. He presses the button again and is lucky with the next radio station. "Better?"

"Much."

Cal returns his brother's smile and settles back into his seat. Their journey home isn't a long one, but his stomach churns at the thought of what is waiting for him once they arrive and he's forced to re-enter the real world. He guesses, from Ethan's frequent sideways glances, that his brother is concerned by his silence but it feels like too much effort to make conversation just to reassure him.

Ethan reverses into their parking space at the same time one of their neighbours is walking up the drive. She waves at them through the front windscreen but her smile looks faked and Cal wonders if she knows something is amiss. He refuses to wave back. Eventually she gives in, but the rest of her walk to the building is at a slower pace and Cal suspects she's heard the news and is hoping to see what state he's in when he gets out of the car. When Ethan moves to open the car door, Cal places a hand on his arm to stall him and nods towards their neighbour's protracted departure. His brother raises an eyebrow but makes no comment and remains seated until she's out of sight.

Cal groans as his brother rolls the wheelchair to his side of the car. He had considered using the crutches but now they're back at the flat, his thighs have turned to jelly and he's less than confident he'll make it all the way. In defeat, he wobbles into the wheelchair and lets Ethan load him with bags and crutches before pushing him towards their block.

The lift is creaky and much smaller than Cal remembered it being the last time he used it, years ago when he'd transferred Ethan's belongings to the new flat while his brother was in hospital. He shuffles uncomfortably and accidentally bangs the side of the lift with the end of one of his crutches. Ethan tuts at him as if he did it on purpose.

Their flat is unnaturally tidy. Cal notices immediately that the sofa has moved a metre to the left and the coffee table has been pushed against the wall. Irritated that alterations have been made for wheelchair space, he tips his bag off his lap and hops across the room on his crutches.

"You can get rid of that thing," he instructs Ethan gruffly.

His brother parks the wheelchair in a corner but doesn't collapse it as Cal had hoped. "Want a drink?"

"Mmm yes," he says, "I'll have a whiskey on the rocks.

Ethan's forehead creases apologetically but before has chance to deliver a lecture on how alcohol shouldn't be mixed with strong painkillers, Cal interjects.

"I'm joking, bro," he says. "Relax. A coffee will be fine."

Ethan's frown lifts and he heads towards the kettle but Cal can't help but wish he was allowed a dose of alcohol instead of caffeine. Drunken oblivion would be more welcome now than ever before.

* * *

Ethan wakes to the sound of a steady thud, thud, thud. His brain is foggy from the first heavy sleep he's had in ages and so at first he lies there, listening but unreactive.

And then it occurs to him. Cal's home.

He checks the time on his phone and his brows crease as he sees it's barely four in the morning. He crawls from beneath his covers and walks towards Cal's room, his lethargic body unable to keep in a straight line.

From the corridor, it's clear the thumps are coming from his brother's room. He knocks gently on the door and calls his name.

"Go back to sleep," Cal says in response.

"No, Caleb, I'm coming in."

His brother is half hidden by the open drawers of his wardrobe but the floor around him is covered in shoes. Ethan gawps at the mess and inexplicably starts counting what he can see. He makes it as far as nine single shoes before his gaze shifts to his brother. Cal's eyes are dry but the skin beneath them is red, the ghost of heavy crying.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Ethan asks.

Cal looks at him blindly but then turns back and buries his head in the wardrobe. "Clear out."

"At 4am?"

A single trainer flies across the room.

Ethan rubs the sleep from his eyes. "Cal, are you-?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't look it."

Cal examines a boot. He grunts and throws it behind him. "Those cost me a fortune, you know."

Ethan shuffles further into the room and takes a seat on the floor next to his brother. "Then don't throw them away."

"Not like I need them now, is it?"

"But you will very soon." He puts a hand on Cal's arm to stall him from grabbing another pair. "Or are you planning to walk around with one shoe even when you have two legs?"

"Not these shoes."

Ethan sighs. "Cal, you really need to read some of the material. You won't know which shoes you can walk in until you have the prosthesis. For example, these…" he reaches to grab a discarded pair of smart shoes, "look like they'll be perfect. Apparently most prosthetic legs are designed with a small heel in mind." He tries to give his brother back the shoe but Cal stubbornly refuses. "And anyway, they say to take your most worn shoes with you when you get it fitted so they can make it as comfortable as possible."

Cal's silent for a moment. "You need to stop reading so much."

"One of us has to."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Ethan takes a deep breath, not wanting this to escalate into an argument. "How about we tidy these away and then once you've got your prosthetic we can sort through them together and see if there _are_ any which won't be practical."

Cal shrugs. His fingers play with the laces on a pair of expensive trainers.

"I'll tidy up then," Ethan says. "You get back in bed; it's the middle of the night." He looks around and notices for the first time that Cal's crutches are the other side of the room and he knows they left the wheelchair in the lounge. He reasons that Cal must have shuffled from his bed to his wardrobe on his bum. "Need a hand up?"

Cal nods. He's pale and looks as if the energy has drained out of him.

Ethan hauls his brother to a standing position. He tries to cling onto him as he wobbles but Cal pulls away from him and precariously hops back to the bed. He slumps onto the mattress but perches on the edge rather than getting under the covers and watches as Ethan gathers the strewn footwear.

It's against Ethan's instincts not to arrange the shoes pair by pair but he doesn't want to keep his brother waiting the length of time it would take for him to achieve his usual standard and so shoves them back in the wardrobe haphazardly. He glances at Cal and offers a small smile which isn't returned.

"Want me to stay with you for a bit?" he asks.

"No, I'm okay."

Ethan nods. "Please try to get some sleep."

Cal gets back under his covers and lies down but it's the obedience in which he does so that worries Ethan. He watches his brother for a few moments but the duvet is pulled up to his nose and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. Ethan inwardly sighs but turns off the light and closes the bedroom door behind him.

He hesitates in the corridor for a minute, wondering if he should go back in and stay with his brother until he drifts off. It's only the extent to which he knows his brother which sends him back to his bedroom. The more he fusses, the more likely Cal will refuse to confide in him.

And yet, his room suddenly seems very lonely.

* * *

At the sound of Ethan's bedroom door opening, Cal pushes himself back to a sitting position on the sofa. He digs his fingers into the corner of his eyes and takes a deep breath, rearranging his face into what he hopes is a neutral expression. He grabs the remote and the television flickers into life just in time, thankfully landing on a channel Ethan will believe he's been watching. He doesn't want his brother to know he's spent the last hour in a frustrated silence.

"Morning," Ethan says. "Did you get any sleep in the end?"

"Yes," Cal lies. He peers over his shoulder. Ethan's hair is tousled and the dressing gown he's worn for years is barely tied. He suspects his brother has also been awake since their conversation in the early hours. "A bit, anyway," he says for added authenticity.

"Good." Ethan walks zombie-style to the attached kitchen, flicks the switch on the kettle and reaches for both of their mugs. He frowns at the work surface. "Oh, you've already made a coffee."

"It'll be cold," Cal tells him.

"Why?"

"Well, that's what happens, Ethan. The heat evaporates."

Ethan frowns. "You know what I mean."

Cal sighs at having to spell the problem out. "Look, I made a coffee but I couldn't get it back to the sofa, alright? Didn't fancy standing up there wobbling while I drank it."

Ethan's silent as he pours the cold drink away. "I'll make you another."

"I don't want another, I wanted that one."

"Yeah, I know," he soothes.

"No, you _don't_ know," Cal snaps. "How can you? You're not so useless you can't even carry your own drink!"

"You're not useless."

Cal hisses. He shoves his crutches away from him. One hits the wall with a clunk and the other falls flat to the floor. Even through the sound of the kettle boiling he can hear Ethan sigh.

"Just try to be patient," Ethan says softly. "I know you want everything back to normal now but I promise, in time, everything will become much easier."

Cal turns his head away. Patience has never been a strength of his. He doesn't think he can wait months just for some semblance of independence.

"Here," Ethan says. He hands him a replacement coffee and joins him on the sofa.

Cal accepts the drink but only to put it on the floor. He can feel concern radiating off his brother like heat and so he shuffles across the sofa, widening the gap between them. He doesn't want to talk about it because it hurts too much to try to put his emotions into words. He wishes Ethan would let him wallow in peace.

"I'm going for a shower," Cal says. "Uh, a bath."

"What, now?" Don't you want your coffee?"

"I told you I didn't."

Cal reaches for his discarded crutches and hoists himself upwards, nearly knocking over the coffee as he does so.

Ethan joins him on his feet. "Okay, well, I can help."

"Not a chance in hell."

"Caleb, I'm your brother and a doctor. I've seen it all before."

Cal shakes his head but his eyes prickle at the thought of his brother having to help bathe him. He hops towards the door as quick as he can so Ethan doesn't get chance to notice the look of shame on his face.

"Okay, if that's what you want," Ethan calls after him. "But remember what the nurse told you; don't submerge the wound for too long and warm water, Cal, not piping hot."

"Yeah, whatever."

"And don't lock the door," he says. "Just in case. I won't come in unless you need me."

Cal ignores the final comment and continues his journey to the bathroom. He locks and then unlocks the door and then lowers himself onto the closed toilet lid, trying to work out how to do this. He hadn't really been planning to take a bath just yet but in his urge to avoid Ethan it had slipped out and he's too proud to backtrack and admit he's not ready.

He leans over to turn the taps on. As the bath steadily fills with water he undresses and leaves his clothes in a messy pile on the floor. It's still hard for him to look at the stump but the therapists at the hospital had made him spend a long few hours learning how to care for it and he's found if he treats it from a medical perspective it's easier to detach emotionally. As he removes the compression bandage, a familiar sinking feeling sets in the out of his stomach but he can manage now without crying or hyperventilating like the first time he saw it.

He refocuses his attention on the running water. It's deep enough now but looks incomplete without bubble bath, yet he knows it's forbidden with his wound. He turns off the taps and drags himself over so that he's perched on the edge of the bath. He takes a deep breath and swivels around, using his good leg to anchor him. He lowers himself into the lukewarm water. At first he leaves his injured leg in the air but it takes more muscle strength than he has, so he rests it on the bath side. The limb aches and it's hard to concentrate on washing himself. Even simple movements feel so much harder now.

It's a relief to get some shampoo in his hair and to finally wash with running water rather than a cloth. He cups some water in his hands and splashes his face with it. It's a surprise how much his cheeks sting and he realises the skin under his eyes must be raw from all the crying he's done over the last week. He dabs it carefully this time and then lowers himself deeper into the bath and fully submerges his head and face, staying underwater until he runs out of breath.

Eventually, when he's clean everywhere else and there's no more putting it off, he takes a deep breath and lowers the stump of his leg into the bath. The texture of the water feels unfamiliar as it flows around his injury. He washes the wound carefully, taking heed, for once, of his brother's advice not to leave it underwater for long. Yet, when he's all done, he sits in the bath for a minute longer, gathering the energy to drag himself back out.

He gets out in a similar method to he got in, pushing himself to the bath side with his good leg and swivelling around to face the rest of the room. He snatches a towel from the rack and dries himself while still precariously balanced, only being thorough when it comes to his leg. He pushes himself into a standing position and clings onto the sink with one hand as he reaches into the cupboard above it for a fresh supply of bandages.

He follows what the nurse taught him, wrapping the elastic bandage in a t-shape first to secure it and then around in a figure of eight. He's careful to stretch the bandage with every wrap so that it's tight on his leg, compressing the oedema. It aches as it's restrained but he blinks away the pain; he's had worse.

He redresses clumsily. Ethan had insisted his only pair of cropped joggers went in the wash so he's had to resort to rolling the leg up as leaving the material loose proved a trip hazard, not to mention highlighting which bit of limb he's missing. Cal takes a second attempt at rolling the trouser leg so it hangs comfortably beneath the stump and makes a mental note to order some new cropped pairs.

His t-shirt remains in his hands and he makes no move to put it on, wanting to delay his return to the lounge. He spends a few minutes sitting in silence, trying to ignore the swell of tears in his eyes. He doesn't know what prompted them, only that they're never far from the surface anymore, and that he's suddenly more fatigued than he's been in days.

He dabs at his eyes with his t-shirt, grateful that it's black and any damp patches will be hidden and then pulls it over his head. He knows it's only a matter of time before Ethan starts calling through the door to check he hasn't got stuck in the bath and so struggles to his feet and inspects his face in the half steamed-up mirror. Thankfully his eyes don't betray him with redness but he still pulls a face at how he looks; unshaven, tired and pallid. It's an added frustration that an injury to his leg has affected his appearance elsewhere. The only saving grace is that no-one but his brother will see him looking this rough.

Now he's confident he's composed enough to fool Ethan, he hops back into the lounge. His brother glances up immediately, apprehension written across his face. Cal hates seeing his little brother look at him like that.

"Okay?" Ethan asks.

Cal forces his lips into a curve. "Yeah," he says. "Of course."


	7. Chapter 7

Hi everyone, hope you enjoy the update. Please keep the reviews coming, I appreciate each and every one.

 **casualtyfics111:** Thank you so much, your feedback is so so kind. I'm glad the dialogue worked well as I loved watching their bickering (the jokey stuff not the full on arguments) on the show, but it's hard to replicate. You're right, it must be especially frustrating for Cal as he's otherwise healthy, it's just a challenge to regain independence and even the smallest tasks have become a challenge. And Ethan just wants to help and fix things as he's always done, but it's not so simple this time. Thank you for the comments on my writing - trust me, it's not effortless, sometimes each word feels like it's being dragged out my brain and I edit a lot, but it's such a compliment that it seems it so thank you! I don't know about other stories yet as I want to focus one this, but I certainly have a lot planned out for this and I really hope I manage to put those ideas into words. Thanks for your continued support.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Wow, thank you for your comments on my writing, it's so generous to say you never tire of it. I'm really glad it comes across as emotional - I feel it while writing it, but I'm never sure it'll be conveyed the same way to someone whose not in my head lol. They're both struggling with what's happened to Cal as well as Ethan's diagnosis which, as this story is set a while ago, has only just happened as well. Thanks again and hope you enjoy this chapter too.

* * *

 **7.**

* * *

Cal dreams that he's at work, except instead of being in the E.D. he's treating patients in their small and unsterile flat. Every injury is one which requires bandaging and soon he notices a shortage of dressings. He tries to ask his brother to get some more but Ethan has disappeared and Cal realises he's the only doctor working. He feels the familiar adrenaline fuelled anxiety of a hectic shift but perseveres, working his way through the patients as quickly as possible.

His next patient looks like a mix of Mrs Beauchamp and the hot receptionist at his gym. There's no obvious injury and he greets her warmly, glad of both a break from bandaging and having an attractive woman to talk to. When he asks her what's wrong she doesn't respond and so he clears his throat and repeats himself. But instead of replying, she leans closer. For a moment he thinks she's going to kiss him but then he realises he's flat on his back and the wailing of a machine is ringing in his ears. She places her fingers on his eyelids, gently closing his eyes. The world around him turns darker and his body grows heavier. He tries to call out, to ask her again what is wrong with her, or even what is wrong with him, but he can't speak. He can't even move.

Cal wakes with a start. His room is silent. His mouth is dry and he's even though he feels shivery, he's coated in a thin layer of sweat. Desperate for a glass of water, he throws his clammy bedcovers to the side and gets out of bed. But as he tries to put weight on a part of his body that isn't there, he crumples and lands on the floor with a heavy thud.

For a few moments he lies there, startled, and waits for his heartrate to return to normal. Everything stings. He's sure there's a small carpet burn on his wrist. He slumps into a slightly more comfortable position, albeit still on the floor, and grunts. He's spent the last two weeks desperate for some respite from thinking about his leg but it had happened at the worst possible time.

"Ethan!" he shouts into the carpet. He waits for the mortifying moment his little brother comes to his rescue but nothing happens. He lifts his head an inch off the floor and shouts again. "Ethan!"

But the next noise that slips from his mouth is a cry of frustration as he remembers why Ethan isn't responding. His brother is out at the hospital pharmacy. Last night Ethan had brought him his due dose of painkillers with a worried expression and informed him that was the last of his opioids. They'd agreed, with only a minor squabble about irresponsibility, that Ethan would nip to the hospital first thing to pick up the forgotten prescription.

Cal's fist thumps the floor. His anger is largely rooted in shame; what kind of idiot falls over getting out of bed? He wishes he was back in his dream. This reality is worse than any nightmare he could have.

But he grits his teeth and pushes himself into a sitting position. He knows he's capable of getting himself up if he really tries but it seems like too much effort to waste on something that should be simple. He rests back against his bed and contemplates staying there until Ethan returns home and can do the hard work for him.

It still feels inconceivable that he forgot about his leg. He feels like it has infected every moment since he woke up in hospital and he'd concluded it'll feel like that until the day he dies. He wonders if his brain just wanted to torture him some more, to shock him so badly that there's no chance he'll forget it again. That's probably it, he think, everything is going wrong for him these days.

* * *

Ethan picks up his brother's painkillers and thanks the pharmacist. From the slight flush on her cheeks, he surmises that she's made the connection between the name on the prescription and the hospital's hot topic of which doctor lost their leg in the helicopter crash. He's grateful that she doesn't do anything further than inject some sympathy into her reciprocate smile.

He's about to walk away when he feels a presence by his side. Charlie smiles at him warmly but hands his patient's prescription to the pharmacist and waits until she leaves to fetch it before speaking.

"Didn't expect to bump into you today," he says.

"Just picking these up." Ethan shows him the packet in his hands. "For Cal."

Charlie nods. "How is he?"

"Um." Truthfully, Ethan's not sure. His brother has been insisting he's fine ever since they arrived home but Ethan knows Cal better than to believe it. His brother's temper has grown quicker and he shows obvious frustration whenever he battles across the room on crutches or nearly overbalances while reaching for something in the kitchen. That's not to mention the tears in the corner of his brother's eyes every time a failed attempt at independence leaves him shouting for help.

"Good days and bad days?" Charlie prompts

"If only a mood could last whole days," Ethan says with a wry smile that quickly fades. "No, that's not fair of me; he's been through a lot. But he- he's all over the place, Charlie, not that he'll admit it. One minute he's wise-cracking, the next he's silent or- or chucking his crutches across the room. And then he tells me he's okay as if I'm asking the most foolish question in the world."

"You're worried about him, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm always worried about Caleb. Even before all of this. He doesn't handle bad news well, never has done." Ethan looks at the ground, flustered. He knows he's giving away more to Charlie than his brother would like, but it's not as if Cal's never done the same. "I just wish I knew how to help him," he says.

Charlie scratches the back of his head. "Has he considered counselling?"

"One of the nurses tried to put him in touch with someone," Ethan says. "He refused the referral."

"Maybe he'll feel different now he's not in shock?"

"No, I know my brother."

"I know you do," Charlie says, softly. "But remember, this isn't Cal how you've always known him. His life has changed dramatically. He's still coming to terms with who he is now; the _new Cal_ with an uncertain future. Imagine how he must feel."

"I don't need to imagine," Ethan says. "I know how it feels to have your future stolen."

Charlie looks up, startled. As realisation slowly dawns on the nurse's face, Ethan gives a slight nod to confirm his suspicions.

"Oh, Ethan," he says, "I'm sorry."

"I thought Cal might have told you."

Charlie shakes his head. "He didn't say. I didn't press the subject. Thought I'd stuck my big nose in rather too much already."

Ethan shakes his head. "I know you were of comfort to him."

"He said that?"

"Well, he talked to you, didn't he? Not to me."

They halt their conversation as the pharmacist returns with the medication Charlie ordered. He pays with his own credit card and Ethan looks at him quizzically, certain the prescription wasn't for himself.

"For one of the regulars," Charlie clarifies. "I know I shouldn't, but it's the only way there's even the slightest possibility she'll take them."

"That's kind."

"Just doing my job," Charlie says. "But don't tell Connie!" He steers Ethan down the corridor to a quiet spot overlooking the carpark. "Ethan, Cal only confided in me because I couldn't be hurt by the discovery like you. He _was_ trying to save you from pain."

Ethan shrugs. "None of that matters any more. He's my brother and I nearly lost him, I don't want to waste time on petty arguments."

"Time to be there for each other now."

"Yeah," Ethan says. "That's assuming he'll let me."

Charlie places a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "If he changes his mind, I have a friend who's a trained counsellor. Say the word and I can get Cal bumped up the list." He pauses. "That applies to both of you."

"Thanks, Charlie, I'll suggest it to him again. But I don't need it."

Charlie gives a small chuckle. "You two are more alike than you know."

Ethan shakes his head but he can't help but smile.

"Come downstairs and say hi to everyone while you're here?" Charlie asks.

Ethan checks his watch. It's still early enough for it to be conceivable he'll get back before Cal wakes. Although the decision for him to go to the pharmacy was a mutual one, Ethan knows that if his brother's in a low mood, he'll be less inclined to try and will require help from the moment he gets up.

"Just quickly." It's only been a few days since Ethan was last in and he's had longer spells of annual leave and sick leave after his car crash, yet he's already feeling like he misses the department. The sense of normality in going to work has kept him sane throughout the trauma of the last few months; the truth about their heritage, finding out he carries the Huntington's gene and now Cal's accident. Plus the perpetual rush in the E.D. prevents his brain from wandering into a place he doesn't want it to go. "Um, Charlie," he says, as they enter the lift. "I'd appreciate you keeping it to yourself about, you know, my diagnosis."

"Your call," the nurse says.

"Thank you."

As the lift descends, Ethan hatches a plan. He'll say a brief hello to his colleagues and then head back home via the shop to purchase ingredients for a full English breakfast. With any luck, Cal will wake up to the smell of bacon, and once pleasantly full they can discuss the rationale behind a counselling referral.

But as the lift doors open and he sees the scene, a sinking feeling sets in in his stomach.

"Ah," Dylan says, marching towards them. "There you are. Multiple RTC, I need you both in Resus."

"Oh, um, I'm not working today," Ethan says, apologetically.

"Then what are you doing here?" Dylan snaps, hands on hips. "You know what, don't answer that, I don't have time to waste listening when I could be finding a doctor who actually wants to do their job."

Ethan sighs. "I suppose I could help out for a short while?" he says. "Let me just ring Ca-"

But before he can pull his phone out of his pocket, a trolley bursts through the doors and he sees the extent of the patient's injuries. He exchanges the briefest of looks with Charlie and then speeds towards Resus at the same pace as the trolley, listening intently as Jez reels off the patient's vitals.

He shoves his belongings in a corner of the room and focuses his attention on his patient. The woman is in her early twenties and unconscious from a head injury. He wants to inspect her pupils but as he didn't come prepared to work, he doesn't have his torch. He scans the room, thankfully to see Alicia coming towards him in her scrubs.

"Can I, um, torch, stethoscope," he asks.

She hands the items over to him with a frown. "Thought you were off still?"

"I am," he tells her. He shines the torch into both of his patient's eyes and releases a sigh of relief. "Right, both equal and reactive but I'd like to get her for a head CT as soon as possible to assess the full extent of the injury."

"Ethan, I've got this," Alicia says with a smile. "Escape while you can."

He hands her back her equipment but hesitates, knowing his departure would leave them short staffed. But before he can take her up on the offer, another trolley crashes into Resus.

"Jade!" the young man shouts. "Jade, are you okay?"

Ethan exchanges a grim smile with Alicia before hastening over to the new arrival.

"Right, this is Connor, he was driving," Iain tells him. "GCS of fifteen, conscious throughout but has been complaining of chest pains. Oh and he's very distressed," he adds, unnecessarily. "That's his girlfriend over there."

Ethan forces himself to push Cal to the back of his mind in order to focus on his new patient.

* * *

Cal's a little happier now that he's made it to the sofa as it's much more comfortable than his bedroom floor. However, he didn't have the willpower to go via the kitchen, so his throat still hurts from the lack of water and his stomach is beginning to rumble.

He can't be sure what time Ethan went out but he feels like he's been waiting a long time for him to return. He's only just looked at his phone but he checks it again and sighs when there's still no message. He dials his brother but it rings out to voicemail as it has done every time he's tried.

"Ethan, where are you?" he snaps down the phone. "Ring me."

Although the pain from falling over has subsided, his leg is throbbing. It's an ache which is impossible to pinpoint, feeling like it comes from somewhere that doesn't exist. He takes the stump of his leg into his hands and gradually runs his fingers over it, trying to soothe the pain but gives up after a few ineffective seconds. Nothing can help but the opioids his brother is taking his time in bringing him. He clenches his jaw and tries to hold himself together.

So far the pain has been bearable and while he knows that's largely due to strong medication, it also seems to swing with his mood. At low times like now, it always hurts more. Being alone makes it worse as well, whether he's trying to become engrossed in a film or in bed at night, failing to sleep. The only thing other than painkillers which manages to distract him from his pain is his brother, but Ethan's disappeared and his leg's getting worse.

Yet, Cal supposes he'll have to get used to being alone. Ethan's clearly found something better to do than keep him company. Both his mothers are dead, his adoptive dad absent and his biological father unknown. He doubts his tenuous friendships with colleagues will progress into something deeper than getting drunk and he can't imagine any woman will look at him twice now.

His breath hitches and he feels the familiar tightening of his throat. He tries to breathe through it but it feels like something is pressing against his chest. His hands curl around the edge of the sofa. He forces himself to exhale. He wishes Ethan was there to tell him what to do. He can't do this alone. He can't do anything alone. And yet he has the rest of his life ahead of him to feel like this. He gasps for air and a hot tear spills down his cheek. He wipes it away roughly. He channels his brother, focuses on what Ethan would say – _come on, Caleb, you can do it. Slowly now, proper deep breaths, in, out, in, out._ Eventually Cal manages to get enough air into his lungs to breathe but it still doesn't feel comfortable, not even when he finally lets go of the tears he's been holding and lets them cascade.

* * *

With Connor moved to cubicles and Jade awaiting a bed on ICU, Ethan finally manages to gather his belongings and slip out of Resus. He sighs deeply. Jade's condition had been touch and go for a while and even though they got her back, he knows they can't rule out the chance of brain damage until she wakes up.

A gentle hand touches his back and he turns to see Alicia. Her make up is smudged slightly from the heat of Resus but she still looks beautiful to him.

"Thanks for your help today," she says. "I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"You would have managed," he says. "You performed that craniotomy perfectly in very difficult circumstances. You should be proud of yourself."

She pushes a strand of hair out of her face. "I've never done one before."

"I know. That makes it even more admirable."

"Well you walked me through it," she says. "We saved her together."

Ethan nods but he doesn't feel like he's had any successes today. There's a gnawing guilt in the pit of his stomach about how long he's been away from home. He doesn't know if he can bear to check the time.

"I'll buy you a drink sometime," she continues. "To say thank you."

"Oh! Lovely!" He hates himself for the way his heart leaps at the suggestion. "But please don't feel obliged."

"No, I'd like to."

Ethan nods, trying not to blush. "Then I'll look forward to it," he says. He sneaks his phone out of his pocket and shudders at the screen: 7 missed calls from his brother, 2 voicemails and 3 texts. "Oh crumbs," he says, showing Alicia his phone. "Cal must be going out of his mind. I was only meant to nip out to the pharmacy."

"He'll be fine," Alicia says, breezily. "He knows what it's like here. Besides, see it as practice for when you come back properly next week."

Ethan manages a courteous smile but he's less convinced. "I- I'm sorry, I must call him to check."

She nods. "Of course! But text me about that drink."

As Alicia disappears back into Resus, Ethan heads in the opposite direction, already rushing to the car as he phones his brother.

Cal answers on the first ring. "Where have you been?"

"Caleb, I'm so sorry," Ethan says. "There was a major incident. I had to help out for a few hours."

There's a stagnant pause. "You've been working?" Cal asks, in a small voice.

"Yes, multiple casualties from an RTC. I couldn't get away until now."

"But you were meant to be with me."

"I know." Ethan's shoulders slump as he detects the upset in his brother's voice. "I am really sorry. It's not the day I had planned either. Is everything okay?"

"No," Cal says.

Ethan's heart skips a beat. "Why, what's happened?"

"My leg hurts," Cal says, grumpily. "I've not had painkillers since last night. And I haven't eaten; not unless you count cereal out of the box, which I don't." He huffs so loudly the phone line crackles. "And, Ethan, I'm so bloody _bored_."

"Okay, I'm at the car," Ethan says, battling with the key, "I'm coming home now."

Cal's silent except for a loud sniff.

"Listen, how about I stop off on route, pick up some pizza? Or a Chinese? Your choice, my treat."

"You can't buy my forgiveness with food," Cal says.

"No, but you said you were hungry."

Ethan can tell that the pause is while his brother debates between stubbornness and a free takeaway.

"Fine," Cal says. "Chinese." Then he ends the call.

* * *

Cal remains on the sofa as Ethan juggles the many containers from the Chinese. He refuses to look at his brother properly in case Ethan can tell his weary eyes are as much from heavy crying as a lack of sleep. The smell from the takeaway would usually increase his hunger but today makes him feel a little sick. He feels as if he doesn't deserve his favourite food, not after the disaster of the day.

Usually Cal would mock Ethan plating the food rather than eating out of plastic containers, but he feels no humour in it for once. Besides, his brother has clearly allowed one concession, as he hands him the plate on the sofa, rather than insisting he comes to the table.

But Cal frowns and shakes his head and Ethan is forced to deliver the plate to the coffee table rather than his hand.

"Thought you were hungry?"

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

Ethan places his own plate next to Cal's and looks at him out of the corner of his eye. "Is this because you're angry at me?"

"Get over yourself, Ethan," Cal snaps.

"If you're hungry, you need to eat," Ethan persists. "I can understand you being annoyed but please don't jeopardise your wellbeing to make a point."

Heat rushes to Cal's head. "I'm not! If you must know, the pain's got so bad I feel nauseous." It's a lie but it has the desired effects for his brother's cheeks flush with guilt. "I'm sure if I had some painkillers earlier I'd be able to eat now."

"Oh, Cal, I really am sorry," Ethan says. "Maybe I made the wrong choice. It's just- I honestly thought I'd be putting lives at risk if I'd come home without helping."

"Why were you even in work anyway?" Cal mutters, annoyed at himself for asking when he was trying to claim that it was the pain and not his mood behind refusing his dinner. "You were meant to be at the pharmacy."

"I was just saying hello."

"Why? Had enough of my company?"

"Don't be stupid."

"Stupid now, am I?" Cal snaps. He doesn't know why he's arguing other than the fact he's sore and irritable. "I'll just add that to my list of other attributes; inept, emotionally unstable, yes I know what you've been thinking, a burden, uh, lopsided…"

"You're none of those things."

Cal scoffs but he can feel his eyes prickling again.

Ethan sighs. "I don't know, maybe Charlie was right."

"Charlie?"

"It's just a suggestion, but-"

"What's Charlie got to do with anything?" Cal says, taken aback "Or is that where you've been all day? The two of you gossiping about me? You're a bad liar, Ethan, I know you weren't working."

"I was working," Ethan says quietly, "but yes, I have also spoken to Charlie."

"I don't believe this."

"Caleb, just hear me out. I- I really think you'd benefit from some counselling."

Cal releases a harsh laugh. He runs his hand through his hair.

"At least try it. If it doesn't help then you don't have to persist."

" _No_ , Ethan."

"Why not?"

"Because what's the point?" He throws out an arm in frustration "It's not going to change anything, is it? It's not going to give me my leg back."

"No, but-"

"But nothing! Fucks sake, Ethan, you should know me better than that."

Ethan visibly takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says. "Okay. You don't want to. That- that's fine."

Cal knows he should follow his brother's lead and let it drop, but he's too wound up now to regain control over his mouth. "No, it's not fine. You think I can't do this, don't you? That's why you want me to talk to some- some _shrink._ You've never believed I could make something of myself, why would you start now?"

"That's neither fair nor true," Ethan says. "Caleb, I have every confidence in you getting through this, walking again, working again, whatever you want. But that doesn't mean you can't have some help along the way."

"Well I thought _you_ were meant to be helping me," Cal counters. "But you've clearly given up. Trying to palm me off on someone else already."

Ethan puts a hand on his shoulder but Cal shrugs him away.

"You're my brother. I'll never give up on you."

At that thought, Cal's vision blurs with tears. His brother sounds genuine, but Cal can't believe what he's saying. How is he meant to recover when he can't even get through a day on his own? And why wouldn't Ethan give up when the only things he's proved he's capable of are crying and ranting and failing to do his exercises. "Well maybe you should," he says.

Ethan sits next to him and squeezes his knee. "Never," he repeats. He tries to pass Cal's plate again. "Let's just- just eat. You'll feel better when you've got some food inside you."

It all seems futile. Cal knows that he'll still feel this hopeless whether he has a full stomach or is starving. He just wants some escape from this new life of his. He lurches to a standing position so quickly that he knocks the plate out of Ethan's hand with his knee. His heart jumps into his throat. He stares at the mess. No doubt his brother will think he's done it on purpose in anger and shout at him for staining the cream carpet.

"Cal-" Ethan starts.

"Don't," Cal says. He fights to feed his arms through the loops on his crutches. "Just- don't."

But Ethan's joined him on his feet and is following as he hops towards the front door as fast as he can.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," Cal replies.

"Caleb, you- you can't. You're not mobile enough yet."

It's the confirmation Cal was waiting for that his brother thinks he can't do it. He shoves the front door open with one of his sticks and, making the most of Ethan flapping around looking for shoes and keys, dives for the lift and jabs at the ground floor button.

He doesn't know where he's going or how he's going to get there, only that it's away from the flat and away from his concerned little brother.

The urge to run and hide has finally become too great to ignore.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm a bit concerned people are losing interest in this story. I hope not, as I have so much further I want to go. I'm going to try to keep going regardless of number of reviews because I'm loving telling this story but please, if you can be kind enough to spare a review, please do so on this part as I've put so much heart and effort into writing it. I hope you enjoy reading this update & if you can leave a few words for me, it would be a much appreciated confidence boost.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you liked the part. Cal's definitely got a lot going on to feel sorry for but hopefully things will start to look up for him soon. Hope you enjoy this chapter too.

* * *

 **8.**

* * *

Ethan throws himself back on the sofa and re-evaluates what to do. In the time it had taken to shove his feet in some shoes, albeit an odd pair, locate the door keys and run down the stairs, Cal had vanished. He had stuck his head out of the entrance to their block and looked both ways but had been unable to see him. He had run around outside calling his brother's name but to no avail. Every time he phoned Cal it rang through to voicemail. Now, a dull ache is starting at the back of Ethan's head.

There's no doubt in his mind that Cal's still not well enough to be out by himself on a pair of crutches, barefoot in just joggers and a thin jumper, but certainly not in the heat of moment after an argument. He worries for Cal's good leg, knowing if his brother treads on glass or worse, a needle, and renders himself unable to hop around, his mood will deteriorate even further. And he's fearful because it's getting dark outside and his brother is defenceless and still weak from the amount of time spent in bed and even if Cal does decide to come back, he knows there's no guarantee he'll make it unharmed.

Ethan weighs up his options. If he leaves the house to search for Cal his brother would be unable to get back in, but staying put seems callous and ineffective. He thumps the seat of the sofa. He tries to think where Cal may go. The pub would be the usual choice but his brother has shown no inclination of wanting to be around people. His stomach begins to churn and he breathes deeply to settle it, unsurprised when it has no effect.

He stands up then sits down again and then presses Cal's number and holds his phone to his ear. He wills his brother to answer but again there's nothing. He paces over to the window and stares out, longing to see his brother in the driveway. He removes his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose and counts to ten, but when he returns the glasses to his face, the driveway still remains empty. He groans. He's furious with himself for letting this happen when he was meant to be looking after his big brother. He'll never forgive himself if anything happens to Cal.

With no idea of what to do, he crouches on the floor by the sofa and begins scraping Cal's spilt Chinese back onto the plate. It'll stain for sure and while that's a nuisance, it matters to him little in comparison to his brother's wellbeing. He wishes he could redo the whole evening, the whole day if possible. He wouldn't venture to the E.D. for a start so he would be home for a day with his brother and he would have waited until Cal was in a reasonable mood before discussing the possibility of seeking professional help.

Ethan picks up the plate of ruined noodles and is about to scrape it into the bin when his phone rings. He jumps so violently he almost spills the food for a second time. He grabs his phone and answers in one swift movement.

"Cal?"

He can hear heavy breathing the other end of the line.

"Cal, are you there?"

There's a sob.

"Caleb, talk to me. Tell me you're okay."

After a deep, shaky breath, Cal speaks. "Can you come and get me?"

There's a lump in Ethan's throat at the sound of his brother's broken tones. "Are you hurt?"

"No. Can't get up."

"Okay." Ethan holds his phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he struggles into his coat. "I'm on my way. Where are you?"

"I- I dunno."

"You must know," Ethan says. "Look around, what can you see?"

"Uh, just houses." Cal's barely audible. "I'm at the top of some alleyway."

Ethan's feels panic creep into his throat. That description could be of anywhere. "Okay, Caleb, think. Where did you pass on the way?" He listens intently, but all he can hear is the spluttering of his brother's breaths. "Cal."

"Ethan, be quick," Cal whimpers.

"I am being." Ethan locks the flat door and takes the stairs two at a time. "But in order to reach you, I need you to tell me where you are."

"There was a pub."

Ethan jogs across the carpark. The night air seems to have grown even colder. "A pub?" He can recall two in the nearby vicinity. "Have we been there?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so. What are you doing?"

"I'm in the car," Ethan says. He fastens his seatbelt. "Just establishing my route. So it's a pub that we've never been to, right? Did you pass a… a post office?"

"Maybe. There were some shops."

Ethan sags in relief. "Okay, I think I know where you are." He starts the ignition. "Cal, one sec, I'm putting you on hands free." He hates driving while on the phone but wants to keep tabs on his brother. "Right, I'm off. Please don't worry, I'll be there soon."

Ethan navigates the streets as efficiently as he can in the dusk. Although his heartbeat is thudding in his ears, he tries to listen out for Cal. On the other end of the phone, his brother is barely replying, but Ethan can hear his brother's breaths occasionally hitch and he fears Cal is about to start hyperventilating. He narrates as he drives, hoping it'll calm his brother, but words fail him altogether when he sees a slumped figure in the entrance of an alleyway.

He parks with haste rather than accuracy, ends the call and leaps from car, rushing to his brother's side. He crouches and places his fingers on the pulse point in Cal's neck. "What happened?"

Cal feebly knocks his hand away. "Ran out of energy. I'm fine."

From the dim light of a streetlamp, Ethan can tell his brother's eyes are puffy and his cheeks damp. He's shivering violently, be it from the cold or the emotion. "You don't look it."

Cal's shoulders slump. His head droops with defeat.

"Caleb, I'm taking you home. Can you stand?"

As Cal shakes his head another tear snakes down his cheek.

"Okay," Ethan says. He settles his glasses further up his nose and braces his shoulders. "Put your arms around me, I'm going to lift you."

Cal looks at him helplessly but when Ethan moves closer, he does as asked and loops his arms around Ethan's neck.

Ethan places his hands on the side of his brother's ribs and attempts to propel him upright but Cal's a dead weight in his arms and Ethan nearly overbalances backwards. He adjusts his position from squatting to kneeling and manages to anchor Cal's foot against his legs. He knows his brother's trying to regain balance but he's swaying and tightens his grip, making it even harder for Ethan to battle to his feet.

Once they're both upright, Cal continues to lean heavily on him and Ethan can feel the cold of his brother's torso against his. He wants to get Cal into the car as soon as possible but he's panting and so he supports him for a little longer, wrapping his arms around Cal as he breathes through his exhaustion. His brother's head drops onto his shoulder and Ethan can feel the damp of his brother's tears against his skin.

"Cal," he says, "I'm sorry, I didn't bring the wheelchair. You'll have to hop to the car."

Cal huffs into Ethan's neck. "Can't."

"You can. You have to. I won't let go, I promise."

Ethan half supports, half drags his brother into the car. Cal's tears have dried now but his face is alarmingly white and his head is flopping. Ethan shrugs out of his winter coat and drapes it over his brother. With fewer layers on to shield him, the wind feels even icier but he still returns to the alleyway to retrieve Cal's crutches. He looks at his big brother through the window of the car, shivering, eyes closed and mouth turned down. Ethan suddenly feels very young under the weight of problems that he has no idea how to solve.

If the drive to find Cal seemed to take forever, then the journey home is over in an instant. On the passenger seat his brother looks as small as possible, huddled beneath Ethan's winter coat, head resting against the window pane. He's silent now but Ethan can tell he's still awake from the tension in his shoulders.

"We're back," he says, softly.

Cal shuffles slightly but doesn't speak.

"Will you be alright while I go to collect the wheelchair?"

Cal's hand sneaks out from beneath the blanketed coat to pull it down to chin level so that his nod can be seen.

"Okay." Ethan lingers in the car for a few seconds, wanting to do something more to comfort his brother, but knowing the best thing for him is to get him inside and warmed up as soon as possible. "I'll be quick."

He takes the stairs two at a time but his speed proves fruitless as his hands are trembling so much that it takes him several attempts to fit the key into the lock of their door. In their flat he's hit by a stench of uneaten takeaway that couldn't be less appetising. He wrinkles his nose and grabs the wheelchair, dragging it into the lift.

Back at the car, Cal's heaved himself upright but Ethan can tell that the dampness on his cheeks is fresh. He parks the wheelchair alongside the car and squeezes in alongside his brother so that he can help lift him. His brother's weight is hard to manage but together they manage to transfer him into the chair.

Ethan releases the breaks and begins to push him towards the building but he can hear his brother release a long, defeated sigh.

Ethan's chest clenches in sympathy. "This won't be forever, you know."

"How?" Cal's pitch is low and his voice shaky. "My leg's not going to grow back."

"I mean, _this_ ," Ethan says. "Crutches, wheelchair, needing help. It won't always be like this."

"Easy for you to say."

Even though he's behind his brother, Ethan bows his head. He knows Cal has a point; saying it is one thing, being the person living it is another. He replies by squeezing his brother's shoulder and steering the wheelchair deftly into the lift.

"Home," he announces. He supports his brother's waist as Cal wobbles onto the sofa and frowns at the iciness of his brother's skin. "I'm not happy with your temperature," he says. "Um, I'll be right back."

He rushes into his bedroom and tugs his own duvet off the bed. He stops only to extract his stethoscope from his briefcase before heading back to the lounge.

"Get under this," Ethan says, passing over the duvet. "I'm going to make us some hot drinks and then I'll check you over properly."

"No need." Although Cal glares at the suggestion, he willingly snuggles under the duvet.

Ethan flicks the switch on the kettle with added vigour. "Caleb, you collapsed out there. You know as well as I do that could be the result of any number of complications."

"I hadn't eaten," Cal says. "I used up more energy than I consumed. That's all. Stop flapping."

Ethan's shoulders slump. He would much rather examine his brother to be on the safe side but doesn't want to risk upsetting Cal with another argument. He waits until the kettle has boiled and then pours the water into two mugs, opting for hot blackcurrant over coffee so that his brother doesn't become any more dehydrated. He carries the mugs back to the sofa and places them on the coffee table alongside the remains of his thwarted Chinese takeaway.

"You have no other symptoms?" he checks. "Dizziness, nausea, fatigue..?"

"Yeah, all three."

"All three-? Cal!" Ethan drops to his brother's side and places the back of his hand against Cal's forehead.

"It's exhaustion." Cal angles his head to the side. "Get off, I'm fine."

"Okay, at least drink this to warm up." Ethan passes him the mug. "Then I'll get you to bed."

Cal accepts the drink but flinches as the handle touches his palm and Ethan has to grab the mug back off him before he drops it.

"Are you hurt?"

Cal shows him his palms. His hands are red with blisters and several flaps of skin are hanging off. "Crutches," he says by way of explanation.

"You need gloves," Ethan murmurs. He sighs in sympathy with his brother. "I'll get those cleaned up and dressed."

He expects Cal to put up a fight but his brother just purses his lips and nods sadly, resigned to the fact. Ethan kneels in front of his brother and gently cleans his palms with an antiseptic wipe. Cal hisses as it stings but doesn't pull away.

"Today was all my fault," Ethan says softly, as he smooths the dressing. "I should have put you first. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault I can't look after myself."

"But you're not to blame either," Ethan says. "It was a freak accident." He sits alongside Cal on the sofa. "I'm worried about you."

Cal brings his legs up to his chest and curls sideways on the sofa, still beneath Ethan's duvet. "I don't know what to do," he says.

Ethan takes a deep breath. With Cal on the verge of finally opening up to him, he's desperate not to say the wrong thing and for his brother to clam up again. "Take it a day at a time?"

"I can't!" he says. "Ethan, I know it's my leg that- that got hurt, but sometimes, I swear, it feels like it's my head."

"You're grieving," Ethan says. "For your leg. That's normal, it's-"

"If you say it's in the leaflets, I swear I'll, I'll…" Cal gives a shaky laugh.

Ethan returns the smile. "I won't."

Cal's silent for a moment. He rearranged the duvet so that it covers Ethan too and Ethan brings his own legs onto the sofa, mirroring his brother's position.

"I can't think straight," Cal says quietly. "Even though I know rationally that things might become okay again, it's like someone's screaming at me, telling me my life is over. It's driving me crazy." He sniffs. "I'm _acting_ crazy. Running off like that when I've barely stood up in weeks. What was I thinking?"

"Actually," Ethan says. "I think that's the most _Cal_ thing you've done in a while."

Cal gives a short huff of amusement. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, maybe." His face falls. "I just don't think I can put up with feeling like this forever."

"What I suggested earlier," Ethan starts, nervously. "About… counselling. If you don't want to, then that's fine, but please, Cal, talk to somebody. Me, or- or Charlie, anyone you want. Just don't try to do this on your own."

Cal nods but he won't look up and Ethan suspects he's fighting back tears again.

"You do realise you're a hypocrite," Cal says eventually. "You haven't told me anything about how you feel about having the gene."

Ethan's stomach lurches. Thankfully his brother's tone is more sympathetic than accusatory but it still feels like he's been punched. He doesn't want to talk about that, he wants to paste on a smile and pretend everything's okay. He fails to supress a shudder.

"See," Cal says.

Ethan looks up to see Cal staring directly at him. He can read the pain in his brother's eyes but also the understanding, that, for all their differences, they both find it easier to bury their feelings rather than dealing with them. Ethan doesn't know if he can hold it together if he starts to open up, but knows he can't expect his brother to share if he won't.

"You're right," Ethan admits.

Cal nods and he wells up again. "Tell me?"

Ethan rubs at his forehead. "I- I- um." His eyes sting and he blinks back the tears. He doesn't want to say it, to acknowledge it's real. "Well. It is what it is. Isn't it."

"And what _is_ that, Ethan?"

Ethan's hand falls into his lap. It feels like someone has pushed all the air out of his body. "A death sentence," he whispers. As they're beside each other, stretched top to tail on the sofa, he feels Cal wince, rather than sees it. He expects his brother to speak but Cal remains respectfully silent and allows him to gather his thoughts.

"It's going to kill me, Cal," he continues. "But worse, it's going to take everything from me first. My- my job, my independence, all of my hopes…" he breaks off at the sound of his voice cracking.

"It could be twenty years or more."

"Not if I take after Emilie."

Cal's lack of reply is far from reassuring and Ethan reminds himself that the silence doesn't tell him anything he didn't already know.

"It could be next year," Ethan says, "or- or next week. There's no way of knowing. If I did, at least I could plan accordingly."

Cal frowns. "You'd rather know?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"I'd rather not think about it until I had to."

"It doesn't work like that," Ethan says. "I think about it anyway. All the time. If I get the chance to learn something new at work, I think, what's the point, I'll never be able to make consultant. If I start to like a girl," he looks away, bashful as his mind flickers to Alicia, "then I remember I could never pursue it for risk her getting pregnant. And if- if I'm tired or nervous and my hands start to shake then I…" he pauses as his vision blurs with tears. He gulps to try to placate the dryness of his throat. "Then I-" he starts again, "I immediately jump to the worst conclusion."

Cal reaches forwards to squeeze his shoulder but Ethan, embarrassed by the stray tear on his cheek, turns his head away, and his brother's arm falls back limply by his side. Neither speaks but Ethan wonders if his words are echoing as loudly in Cal's head as they are in his own. There's no pacification. There _will_ come a day where a tremor or a forgotten word or an unexplainable low mood will be more than just that. He doesn't blame his brother for not knowing what to say.

Eventually, Cal clears his throat and attempts a grin. "So who's the girl?" he asks.

Ethan chuckles in shock at the turn of conversation but his laugh quickly descends into a strangled sob.

"Ethan, you can still do those things," Cal says, sounding earnest now. "You were so close to passing those consultancy exams last time. And if you've found a girl that has a thing for- for old briefcases and foreign films then of course you should have a relationship. Kids too, if you want them."

"No," Ethan shakes his head firmly. "No. No children. I couldn't willingly put anyone else through that."

"Yeah, but there's assisted fertility techniques. You must have done the research."

"I have," Ethan admits. "But they're expensive and lengthy and can put the mother at risk as well."

"It's still an option."

"And let the child watch me deteriorate? I saw how hard it was on you caring for Emilie and that's without her being the parent who raised us."

"You would be a good dad, though, Ethan."

Ethan's eyes fill with tears. "Thank you, Caleb," he manages, choked, "but it can't happen."

Cal looks down. "Good thing we don't still have Matilda, isn't it? I'd never be able to look after her now."

"If she was here we would have managed. I'd have looked after her until you could do so again." He pauses. "You will get to the point where you can look after a child if that's what you want."

"Don't even know if I want kids." He shrugs. "Maybe it won't be an option anyway. Who's going to want to sleep with me like this?"

Despite the forlorn look on his brother's face, Ethan feels a twitch of amusement. Only Cal would be seriously worrying about his sex life among everything else. "The right women will," he says.

Cal scowls. "But I'll probably never meet her because I'm too busy being prisoner in my own home," he says.

"You're not a prisoner; I'll take you wherever you want. And very soon, you can take yourself."

"Because I'm going to get better," Cal parrots sarcastically.

"Exactly." Ethan watches as his brother bitterly shakes his head. "You will." His heart aches. "Cal, I'd give anything to have that chance of improvement rather than inevitable deterioration."

"You think I'm being selfish?"

"No. But I think you're finding it difficult, and understandably so, to remember the positives."

"Positives?" Cal shoots him with a beseeching look. "Feel free to point them out. Because from where I'm standing," he scoffs at his own accidental word choice, "there's very little to be happy about. Everything's gone wrong for us, Ethan. In the last year alone, I've lost a daughter, we've found out the woman who raised us isn't our mum, our real mum died but not before giving you a disease and now I've lost a leg."

"I know." Ethan sniffs back the threat of tears. "It's been… turbulent. But in a year's time, you will look back and think _look how far I've come_."

"I can't imagine-"

"You will," Ethan repeats, firmly this time. "This, the past few weeks, this is the worst it'll get for you, Caleb."

Cal looks up at him, damp eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar and bottom lip trembling, as if he's about to dispute it. But then Cal's brows knot together and he stares at Ethan as though he's seeing him properly for the first time. Ethan wonders if his brother gets it now. From rock bottom, things can only improve. Yet for him, everything is still to come.

"I'm scared, Cal." The words tumble from his mouth before he has chance to stop them but worse is the tears that coincide. "It's known to be one of the cruellest diseases."

The twitch of a muscle in Cal's jaw indicates that his brother's heard that too.

"And once it starts, that's it. Whatever I do, it'll take hold. I won't be able to do anything for myself." Ethan feels his eyes fill again as he begins to allow the thoughts he's been burying to push to the front of his brain. "I- I don't know how bad it's going to feel, the spasms, the low moods, not being able to- to walk or speak or eat or- or even think straight. How am I meant to bare that?"

"I'll be there," Cal says. "I meant it, Ethan, when I told you you've got me for life."

"But I want you there as my brother. Not my- my _carer_!"

Ethan sees a flash of tears in his brother's eyes before Cal lowers his head.

"I get that," Cal says. He nods into his chest. "Come on, Ethan, look around, you know I get that. But it's better me than some stranger."

Ethan shrugs. He's not sure. Although he hates the thought of having some unfamiliar nurse making frequent visits to their property, he doesn't want Cal to spend years bathing him and feeding him. Not only is it a waste of Cal's life, but an invasion of all the boundaries they've set. "I don't want either option," he murmurs, his vision blurry with tears. "I don't want the gene."

"I know," Cal says. There's a few moment's hesitation. "Look, just listen now, because I've not said this and I should have done sooner. I know there have been… incidences, okay… where I've not been the best big brother, but that's going to change, alright? When this- this _thing_ starts, then I'm going to look after you. I intended that from the moment you thrust your results at me."

Ethan rubs his hands across his cheeks having given up trying to keep his tears subtle.

"And I know what you're thinking; I'm not really capable of putting someone else first at the best of times, let alone now, like this. But I'll find a way." Cal looks up and gives him a watery smile. "I will. I'll learn to walk again, to be independent again, so that I can be there for you when you need me."

"Do it for yourself, not for me."

"For both of us."

Ethan nods. He fights in his trouser pocket for his handkerchief and dabs furiously at his damp cheeks. "Goodness, I'm a state."

Cal indicates his own tearstained cheeks. "You and me both, Nibbles."

Ethan passes him his handkerchief and relaxes back onto the arm of the sofa, only frowning slightly as Cal noisily blows his nose on the borrowed material and tries to hand it back.

"But what if I can't do it?" Cal asks suddenly.

"Rehab?"

Cal nods. "What if this is it?"

"Well," Ethan says. "If this is it, then you'd adjust. But I don't believe it is." He manages an encouraging nod. "Not that I in any way condone it, but you just walked nearly half a mile. And that's on crutches, less than three weeks after your accident. It bodes well for what you can do with time, effort and professional physio therapy."

"Things will never be the same though."

"No," Ethan gently agrees, "But things can still be okay. Good," he corrects, "things can still be good." He scrutinises Cal's face but he still looks uncertain. "Listen, you said earlier that I didn't think you could do it. But I know you. You can do anything as you put your mind to it."

"You mean that?"

"The only lack of confidence is your own."

Cal nods slowly. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes several deep breaths. When he opens them, he fixes Ethan with a desperate stare. "You will help me?"

Ethan's chest clenches at how much Cal sounds like a young boy again. He holds his brother's gaze. "Caleb, I promise," he says. "I'm here for you. I am now and I always will be because you're my brother. Whether you need help with the physical stuff or you want someone to shout at or to- to hug you while you cry. I'm here."

Cal releases a heaving sob. He covers his face with his bandaged hands. When he's finally composed again, his lips quiver into a fleeting smile. "Thank you," he mouths. His head slumps sideways onto the sofa.

Ethan manages to turn the corners of his lips upwards. He rubs at his eyes, exhausted from the outpouring of emotion. From Cal's posture and his half lidded eyes, he suspects his brother feels the same.

"Let's get you to bed," he says. "Come on."

Cal groans softly. "Can't be bothered. We'll just sleep here."

Ethan raises his eyebrows. "We?"

"Don't even think about moving your leg," he murmurs. "I'm leaning on it."

"I know. You've given me pins and needles."

Cal lifts his head and looks at him incredulously. "Did you seriously just complain _to me_ about something being wrong with your leg?"

"Gosh, I did, didn't I?! Sorry, Cal."

Cal manages a laugh. It sounds choked but genuine and Ethan manages to join in for a few seconds. It feels alien but welcome.

"So we're staying here, yeah?"

Ethan considers. Aside from his leg, he's content there too and it is comforting to have his brother so close. "Promise me you'll get some sleep?"

"Yeah. Tired," Cal says. "Don't snore."

"I won't!"

His brother's eyes are already flickering closed and his head is bobbing against his chest. Ethan's sleepy as well but forces himself to stay awake while he watches his brother drift into a peaceful slumber.

"Goodnight, Cal," he whispers.


	9. Chapter 9

Ohhh you guys are amazing. Seriously, thank you for boosting me when I was having a confidence wobble. This isn't my strongest chapter but I didn't want to jump massively in time just so I could get to the bits I'm looking forward to writing more. Hope you enjoy it anyway and as always I'd really appreciate any feedback.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Thank you so much for the review and your understanding of why I was having a review-related wobble but please don't be sorry, your feedback is always so kind. Really pleased you've been enjoying it and that it moved you. Your comments on my writing made me smile so much so thank you, but I don't think I need to send any talent your way as you have more than enough of your own!

 **CBloom2:** Glad you enjoyed the chapter and their emotionally charged conversation. I love a good brother heart to heart so had to include one in there somewhere. You're right, I've got many ups and downs planned but not giving away any more than that haha. Thank you so much for reviewing.

 **casualtyfics111:** No need to apologise, we all need to prioritise real life sometimes (I need to remind myself of that at the moment haha) and your reviews are always so generous so thank you. Really pleased their turmoil comes across and that you like the way the interact. Thank you for the review.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thank you so much for the reassurance and the review. Yeah, Ethan is trying to boost Cal's confidence and positivity but lets hope it works. Oh, how I wish Cal was still in the show too, but we can keep him alive on here at least.

 **AVMabs:** Thank you for the reassurance. Funnily enough, just a few days before I posted the last chapter I'd planned a bit of Charlie interaction. That's still a few parts away though I'm afraid. The boys definitely need protecting, but hopefully they can protect each other. Thank you so much for leaving a review.

* * *

 **9.**

* * *

Cal wakes to a spring digging in his back and numbness across the one leg that's meant to be fully functional. He tries to stretch, but, being horizontal across the sofa, only one side has enough room to reap the benefit. He yawns loudly and blinks his eyes open, registering his surroundings and recalling why he's woken in their lounge rather than in his bed.

His yawn must have alerted Ethan for his brother pokes his head out from around the kitchen and gives him a tentative smile.

"Morning."

"Yeah," Cal replies vaguely, his mind distracted by memories of why his eyes feel so heavy.

As the events of the previous night pieces itself together in his mind, he supresses a shudder. It feels far worse than waking after a night drinking and realising who he offended or who he slept with or why he was running around the pub with his shirt off. Low level embarrassment he can cope with. But last night, outside in the cold by himself, he had felt the world closing in on him.

He'd felt the energy drain from his body at the same rate that the anger left him but had stumbled on, not knowing what else to do. When he had finally collapsed in the entrance of a dirty alleyway, he had felt as if he was suffocating under a blanket of defeat and shame. It had scared him to realise how quickly his muscles had given up on him. Irrational thoughts had taken over and he'd wondered if he'd ever make it home. But aching fingers had dialled his brother's number and Ethan had come to his rescue yet again.

"You slept well," Ethan tells him. "I'm glad."

"You didn't?"

"No, well, I've never had your uncanny ability to drift off in the most uncomfortable of places."

Even though Ethan's teasing him, he won't quite meet his eyes. Cal knows that the heart to heart they had last night was out of both their comfort zones. He can't recall another occasion when they'd cried together so heavily, not after any arguments or when their dad left or even following either mothers death. He suspects his brother feels as exposed after their conversation as he does.

"You could have gone to bed," Cal suggests.

"Didn't want to wake you."

Ethan smiles again but it's that broken smile he only ever does when it's the last thing on earth he feels like doing and Cal wishes he could wipe it from his face. The tears last night were almost better because at least his brother was being honest.

He pushes himself into a sitting position but the blisters on his palms throb from contact with the sofa and he hisses loudly.

"You okay?"

There's a clatter and then Ethan is suddenly by his side. With him so close, Cal can see that Ethan's eyes are bloodshot and the back of his hair is sticking up at a strange angle. He looks like a feeble replica of his brother.

"Fine. I just forgot," Cal says, frowning at his hands. Although the shock was worse than the pain, he anticipates it's going to be a struggle to hold his crutches. For now though, he directs his concerns towards his little brother. "Ethan, last night-"

Ethan cuts him off with an expression full of anguish.

"Last night," Cal repeats, firmly. "I'm glad we talked about everything."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad I got you home safely."

Cal frowns at the reprimand in his brother's voice. "Don't make it about me. You were just as upset as I was."

Ethan's shoulders slump and the alien smile drops from his face. "I was worried. You went missing."

"And then you found me," Cal says. "End of." He shakes his head at the look of petulance on his brother's face. He knows Ethan would rather repress any emotions than let his vulnerabilities show but he can't bear the possibility that confiding in each other was a one off. "I'm not letting you pretend nothing else happened. For heaven's sake, Ethan, it doesn't matter that you failed to retain flawless composure for once. It's only me. I've seen you cry before."

"I know, but-"

"But nothing! Ethan, how much shit have we been through recently? You can't make all of that okay just by pretending you didn't break down next to me last night."

"It's not that."

"You're not a robot so don't act like one."

"Alright, listen," Ethan says. He squats on the edge of the sofa. "If it makes you feel better than I admit it. I… cried last night. I was, and still am, upset."

Cal sighs. "Ethan, you don't have to say it like that. I just wish you'd talk to me normally about it all."

"I am," Ethan insists. "I meant every word I said last night, okay, Caleb? And when- when it starts, I will come to you, I promise. But, for now, _you_ are my priority, understood? There's no use me crying and falling apart when I could otherwise be staying strong for you."

Cal purses his lips together and bows his head. He's choked by the intensity of what Ethan said but manages to find his voice within seconds. "Maybe I need you to fall apart sometimes," he says, "so I know that it's okay for me to do the same."

"Cal, no-one could go through what you've been through unscathed. Of course there's going to be bad days like yesterday." He pauses. "I suppose, it's the same for me."

"Ups and downs."

"Yeah."

"Mostly just downs so far." Cal admits. He makes the effort to lift his gaze from his lap to meet Ethan's. "But I think I'm ready to concentrate on getting better now."

Ethan's smile is back but it's genuine this time. "That's so good to hear."

"Yeah, well, I meant everything I said too. I want to be there for you. I can't stay stuck like this because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to try."

"I am proud of you, you know, Caleb."

"Steady on," Cal says, but he can't help but grin at words he never thought he'd hear from his brother. "You realise I wasn't listening to a thing the physio told me?"

Ethan's cheeks flush. "If it helps, I, um, took notes."

"Seriously? Notes?" Cal raises his eyebrows. "I always knew there had to be some advantage to having a nerd for a brother!"

"Another advantage being they're stored away securely and can remain there for as long as it takes to hear the magic word."

"Magic word? Nibbles, how old are you?"

"Still waiting…"

Cal snorts. It feels so good to be joking around with his brother like they always used to. "Fine. _Please_ can I borrow your notes?"

"Seeing as you asked so nicely." Ethan smiles. "But breakfast first. I was about to make coffee, hang on."

As Ethan returns to the kitchen, Cal adjusts himself so that he's sitting upright on the sofa and there's room for his brother too. He accepts the coffee and uses it to gulp down his morning painkillers. The hot liquid burns but it still feels better than the roughness of a dehydrated throat.

"So, breakfast," Ethan says. "There are two options. Either I pour you a bowl of cereal or I nip to the shop and get some bacon."

Now that Cal is no longer nauseous with emotion, the hunger has caught up with him. His body feels drained from the lack of sustenance. "Both?" he asks, hopefully.

"Or both," Ethan corrects himself. He takes a long slurp of his own coffee and retreats to the kitchen to pour Cal a bowl of cornflakes. "Eat," he says, handing them over. "I'm going to have a quick shower then I'll head out." He pauses. "You alright?"

Cal nods but Ethan lingers by the doorway looking uncertain. He shoves a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, hoping it deters any further questions and his brother, thankfully, departs.

Compared to yesterday, he _is_ alright. But now he has committed himself to putting his all into recovering, he feels overwhelmed by the magnitude of what he has to do. He doesn't know if he has the courage to endure months of physio and the pain and exhaustion that it will bring. He's always been a bare-minimum kind of man and scraped through medical school on last minute cramming, charm, and more than his fair share of luck. But he knows learning to walk again will require every scrap of effort he can muster. He shivers with the thought that even that may not be enough.

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself why it's important to get himself better. Aside from the fact he wants his life back, he can see things from another perspective now too. Once the Huntington's takes hold of Ethan's body, he'll have no control of how fast it progresses or how severe the symptoms are. Neither he, nor anyone, can do anything to halt the disease. As he imagines his little brother shrouded in illness, the cereal congeals in his throat and he chokes as he gulps it down.

As far as Cal's concerned, it's the biggest injustice in life that his little brother is going to suffer like that. He knows Ethan would do anything to free himself from that future. And Cal understands now, with such clarity that it hurts his head, that he's lucky he has the opportunity to regain some semblance of normality. If he spends his days feeling sorry for himself rather than working to improve his mobility, it's adding insult to the fact his brother doesn't get that chance. Cal just hopes he can ignore his fears about how hard the coming months will be.

Ethan returns from the shower quicker than expected but there are still drops of water in his hair and Cal suspects he's rushed. He's dressed better than Cal, in jeans rather than joggers, but he still looks a far cry from his usual blazer and briefcase combination.

"I'll head out then," Ethan says. "Sure you'll be alright by yourself?"

Cal watches his brother's forehead crease and he's sure he's recalling what happened last time he was left on his own. "Yeah, well, as long as you manage to restrain yourself from saving a dozen lives between here and the shop," he says.

"Very funny. You know, I don't actually _want_ critically ill people to appear in front of me."

"No? But that would make an incredibly dull day at work, Nibbles. Then again, I know how you like your paperwork. Dotting the i's, crossing the t's, you let down the good old stereotype of doctor's handwriting."

"Whereas you live up to that perfectly. That's not to mention some of the less favourable stereotypes."

"What other stereotypes?" Cal asks, concerned. He cranes his head over the sofa to call after his brother. "Ethan, tell me!"

Ethan grins. "I'll leave you pondering that while I venture to the shops."

Cal slumps back onto the sofa. He doesn't really care he missed the punchline of Ethan's joke. He feels closer to his brother than he has in a long time.

* * *

Ethan is cleaning the kitchen when the doorbell goes. He huffs, wrings out the wet cloth and removes his rubber gloves but the doorbell buzzes again before he makes it out of the kitchen. He strides past Cal, on the sofa watching a crude comedy film which Ethan had given up on after the first ten minutes, and presses the intercom. It's so rare for their bell to go that he feels stupid talking to the wall.

"Um, yes, hello?" he says.

"It's Mrs Beauchamp," comes the reply.

Ethan's so startled that he forgets to speak. He glances over his shoulder at his brother, who mutes the film and raises his eyebrows.

"Did I hear that right?"

"I- I think so."

The intercom crackles into life. "Kindly don't keep me waiting," a familiar, firm voice says.

Wide-eyed, Ethan turns back and releases the door.

Cal's hand hits the sofa. "What did you do that for?"

"I had to," Ethan says, aghast, "it's Mrs Beauchamp!" He pulls at the hem of his t-shirt to try to smarten himself up and repositions his glasses, scanning the flat. It's a mess but at least the kitchen's newly clean. "Cal, turn that off," he says, with a nod towards the television. "She'll sack us both if she hears some of those jokes."

"Maybe that's why she's here? We've had too much time off?"

"No, it's authorised," Ethan says, but his stomach still churns at the thought. "You don't think something else has happened at the hospital, do you?"

Cal shakes his head but still hastily grabs his phone and taps at the screen, looking anxious.

But before they can speculate further, there's a sharp knock at the door. Ethan opens it tentatively and gawps at the lady in front of him. "G-good morning," he manages.

"Good morning, Dr Hardy," she echoes, striding swiftly into the flat without waiting to be invited. She surveys the room. "You know, I'd heard a rumour about pink walls," she muses. "I'm almost disappointed."

Ethan lets a nervous chuckle slip out. "That's just in Caleb's bedroom."

"My walls aren't pink!"

"No need to sound so embarrassed," Connie replies. "I mean, it's not my personal taste but some say it's admirable to be bold with your style."

Ethan steps forwards, worried if he gives Cal a chance to reply he'll end up saying something defensively that borders on rude. "Mrs Beauchamp, how's Grace?"

Connie takes so long to respond that Ethan worries that he's upset her.

She sniffs. "Her father is with her."

Although the question is far from answered, Ethan knows better than to persist. He nods uncomfortably and wonders how long she'll keep them waiting before telling them the reason for her visit.

Connie slips from her coat and holds it towards him. She doesn't thank him as he takes it from her but treats him to a small smile. "And I'll have a coffee when you're ready, Ethan."

"Um, right, yes, of course," he stammers.

He hangs her coat amid theirs by the front door, hoping she won't take objection to her smart jacket brushing against his duffle coat and heads to the kitchen to make the coffee. On route, he manages to exchange a glance with his brother, enough to confirm Cal's as confused by her presence as he is. He flicks the switch on the kettle then returns to hover by the divide of the two rooms, waiting to see what happens next.

"Dr Knight, please come and sit with me," Connie says, seating herself at their dining table. "I have something to show you."

Cal shoots her with a look of loathing, but doesn't dare disobey. He hoists himself upright with his crutches and slowly swings over to the table. He struggles to pull the chair far enough out to sit down, but Connie watches patiently, rather than coming to the rescue and allowing him to give up as Ethan may have done.

Connie places a pile of books on the table but the kettle starts to whistle so loud that it drowns out her speech. Ethan switches it off before it reaches full boil and heaps the coffee into three mugs. He feels like he should be serving Connie's in a delicate teacup rather than a mug with a chip on the rim and the words _coffee… because it's too early for beer_ emblazoned on the front and makes a mental note to avoid her eyes when presenting her the drink.

He pours the boiling water and carries the two mugs for his boss and his brother back to the room first. The dining table is now full of textbooks and portfolios and there is only just enough space for him to position the coffees. He scans the titles of the books and realises the majority refer to chest trauma.

Once his own drink is in his hand, Ethan retreats to the sofa. He would have much rather been at the table but as they only have two seats, both are taken.

"Why are you telling me this?" he hears Cal ask.

"I've been tasked with finding a junior doctor capable of compiling a research project exploring these possibilities."

Cal gives a bitter laugh. "Then you'd better ask Ethan."

"Ethan's busy," Connie quickly replies. "He's back at work tomorrow and I intend to throw him straight in the deep end."

Even though neither of them look towards him, Ethan feels his cheeks burn as they discuss him.

"You've performed a clamshell thoracotomy before, am I right?" Connie says.

"Once."

"Then you've had first-hand experience with how invasive a procedure it is."

"Doesn't mean I want to write about it."

"The benefits of treating blunt chest trauma endovascularly are astronomical for recovery time, agreed?" Connie pauses long enough for Cal to give a reluctant nod. "Good. Then you'll understand the importance of research into whether the same treatment can be used for penetrating wounds."

Cal's eyes narrow and he purses his lips as he thinks.

"I'd complete this project myself," Connie continues, "but unfortunately I don't meet the _junior_ doctorrequirement. Research in this field is incredibly important considering the increase in traumatic knife crime."

Ethan sees a flash of interest in his brother's eyes but it lasts less than a second.

"It's not for me," he says.

"Whyever not?"

"Mrs Beauchamp, have you ever known me to express a penchant for _research_?"

Connie raises an eyebrow. "It's not like you have much else on."

"I'm on sick leave. This seems a lot like work to me."

"Suit yourself." She sighs. "Doctor Chao has already treated me to three pitches on why I should grant this research to her anyway."

Cal stiffens. His gaze flickers to the nearest textbook and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "It- it's possible to use this technique even in case of haemorrhage?" he asks.

"I suppose you'll have to find out from Lily."

Cal shuffles in his seat. He drags a hand through his hair, unsettling the dressing on his blisters. "I don't see how it won't affect mortality rates."

Connie gives a dramatic shrug. "For someone who doesn't want the project, you seem awfully interested."

"Didn't say I didn't find it interesting," he mutters.

"So shall I take that as a yes?"

Cal exhales. His fingers trace the portfolio. "I wouldn't know how. I'm not good at theory."

Connie tuts. "You have plenty of failings as a doctor but intelligence is not one of them."

"Yeah, and where does having one leg fit in?"

"I didn't know you typed with your feet."

"I wasn't talking about-" Cal quickly breaks off, realising she's having him on. "I was referring to practicing medicine," he says, sulkily.

"All in good time," Connie says, surprisingly gently. "You're getting a prosthesis?"

"Yeah, I've got my temporary fitting at the end of next week."

"Phone me once you're walking unaided and we'll talk about a return to work, okay?"

"Okay." Cal takes a deep breath. "Thank you."

Connie barely reacts to his obvious relief. "Look, I don't have all day," she says. "Are you accepting this project or are you not?"

Ethan holds his breath, hoping his brother agrees. He's sure it'll be good for Cal to have somewhere other to focus his attention than brooding about what's happened to him.

"Fine," Cal says, "seeing as you came all this way to ask."

"Great, well, you have two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"I know," Connie says. "That length of time is rather generous but believe me I'm expecting excellence."

Cal pulls a face but Ethan can see the smile creeping into it. He grins as well, glad his brother overcame his stubbornness to accept the task.

Connie takes a sip of her coffee. "Reminds me why I never drink filter," she says, returning it to the table with a grimace. "Anyway, I better get to work; we _are_ two doctors down after all."

Ethan climbs to his feet at the same time she does, trying his best to retain his manners for fear of getting reprimanded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs Beauchamp," he says.

"Oh, I was going to mention," she says, airily. "If it suits you better and you can bear to stay a little later, I can permit you an hour lunch. That should be enough time to come home and check your brother is hard at work, don't you think?"

Ethan nods. He can feel tension ease from his body at the thought he wouldn't have to leave Cal for a whole day. "Um, yes, that would be perfect," he says.

"Don't tell any of your colleagues I'm so accommodating," she replies, "or they'll all be hankering after longer breaks."

"My lips are sealed." He mimes zipping his lips.

"Hmm, good, well, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't make me regret my offers, either of you." She retrieves her own coat before Ethan can do it for her and leaves with the same vigour she entered.

"What the hell was that about?" Cal asks.

Ethan takes the second seat at the table. "Not a clue." He picks up a textbook and starts to thumb his way through it, pausing at a diagram of surgical catheter being inserted through the skin. "This is interesting stuff, you know. Complex, but certainly interesting."

Cal groans. "What have I got myself into?"

"Well, you're a braver man than me if you're thinking of telling her you've changed your mind!"


	10. Chapter 10

So chuffed I've made it to part 10 already but trying not to be intimidated by how much more of the story I still have to tell! Really enjoying writing this and I'm excited for the next part, but have no idea when there will be enough hours in the day for me to get it started. I promise it'll be as soon as I can. In the meantime, please help me celebrate reaching chapter 10 (sorry, such shameless plugging, haha) with a review? I love and appreciate everyone single bit of feedback.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thank you for reviewing and your continued support. I love it when they get along too, I could read it forever! I hope you'll like the brotherly banter in this chapter as well.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Yeah, there's a bit more optimism in the coming chapters as, let's face it, I've given them a hard time so far. I love how you've summed up Connie's visit - it's exactly how I wanted it to come across, so I was really happy reading that. She's not one of my favourite characters but I do have a soft spot for when she shows some empathy towards her team. Hope you're feeling better now. Thank you for your review and in fact all of your reviews, always appreciated.

 **casualtyfics111:** Thank you so much. I'm glad you enjoyed it and also really pleased the Connie scene worked. I don't find her the easiest to write , but that scene kind of wrote itself and I think her opposite approach to Ethan might have helped Cal (not that Ethan isn't being a massive help himself, of course!) Thank you for your ongoing support.

* * *

 **10.**

* * *

Cal slumps against the back of their sofa. A month ago he'd never have imagined feeling this envious of his brother going to work. Yet now, watching Ethan ready to go, stethoscope balanced prematurely around his neck, Cal's limbs ache with the desire to attack a complex trauma case. He can tell Ethan is looking forward to his return from the small smile on his lips as he adjusts his blazer. Cal can't blame him; he's been almost as much a prisoner in their flat as he has, but he doesn't understand the sudden hesitancy in Ethan's morning routine.

"Nibbles, you know, you _are_ just going to work. It doesn't matter if you're wearing a suit or trackies…"

Ethan resettles his glasses on his nose and mutters something about wanting to look presentable.

"-or if there's a coffee stain on your shirt," Cal continues.

"Hmm?" Ethan acknowledges him properly this time, his head shooting up to exchange a look of panic, before frantically pulling his shirt out of his trousers to examine it. "What? Where?"

"Got you," Cal says.

"Caleb! Really? Did you have to?"

"Technically, I never said there _was_ a coffee stain. Only that _if_ there was it didn't matter."

"You're not funny," Ethan says. He re-tucks his shirt. "I was almost ready."

"Well, if you're ready, then go! Or if you're determined to faff around with your appearance then please take a second look at your hair. Way too much gel."

"There's nothing wrong with my hair," Ethan says, but Cal can see his arm twitch as he fights the urge to check it.

"Why are you delaying?" Cal asks. "I thought you were dying to get back."

"I-" Ethan starts.

He pauses for a few seconds too long and when Cal realises why, all of his amusement disintegrates.

"I'll be fine, Ethan," he says. "You can leave me, you know. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

"I didn't think you were-"

"Then what?" Cal demands. He pushes himself upright and, without bothering to use his crutches, hops over to look Ethan in the eye. "You're worried, aren't you?"

"No," Ethan says, uncertainly. "I know you'll be okay. But I'd rather be here just to- to make things easier for you."

Cal wobbles and instinctively grabs Ethan's shoulders to steady himself. His brother's hands immediately reach for him, finding home on his side, but his face displays the unspoken _told you so._

"I can manage when I have to," Cal says, forcing his tone to sound genuine. "Besides, you've already made things easier. That thermos flask idea was genius. Coffee on tap _and_ I can carry it without spilling."

Ethan's expression relaxes. "And thanks to Mrs Beauchamp I'll be back in time to make you some lunch."

"Exactly. So stop worrying and go save some lives!" He lets go of one of Ethan's shoulders to cup his cheek. "Try not to miss me too much, bro."

Although Ethan pushes his hand off his face, Cal can't help but notice his brother's fingers linger on his wrist for a few seconds longer than he'd expect.

"You will call me if you need anything?"

"I'll text you every hour," Cal parodies.

"Caleb."

"Yes, I'll call you," he agrees. "But, Ethan, all I'm planning on is a movie marathon and you know I can make it to both the toilet and the kitchen without any problems."

"Use the crutches. Don't hop."

Cal rolls his eyes. With the blisters on his hands only partially healed, he's been resistant to using his crutches and Ethan has had to catch him more than once as he's wobbled around the flat on one leg. To make his point he breaks away from his brother and hops back to the sofa.

"Right, anything you want bringing before I go?" Ethan looks around. "You've got the thermos, water, crisps. Your phone?"

Cal brings the phone out of his pocket to prove to Ethan he has it and makes a show of checking the time as he does so. "You do realise you're late?"

"What?" Ethan says, sounding flustered. "No, no, I had ages still."

"Got you again." Cal smirks. "It's only twenty past."

"Oh for heaven's sake, you really are a child," Ethan grumbles, but he's smiling. "Now, try to behave, and I'll see you at lunchtime, okay?"

"Yeah, see you later. Have a good day at work."

Ethan draws a breath so deep it straightens his back and collects his briefcase from the table. "Thanks, Cal," he says.

* * *

Ethan's first morning back had been relatively uneventful. He'd spent it in cubicles treating minor injuries and trying to convince a middle aged lady that she had nothing more than a bad case of the common cold. He had confirmed two broken wrists, removed a piece of Lego from a youngster's nose and referred a suspected angina patient to cardiology. But the biggest miracle of the lot was that he had managed to leave for his break exactly on the hour as planned.

He'd arrived home to find his brother curled up on the sofa where he'd left him, bored but in one piece. No plates had been broken, no drinks spilled and there were no more chips in the wallpaper from crutches that allegedly flew across the room on their own accord.

Then, after eating lunch with Cal and rushing through their washing up, Ethan says goodbye to his brother for the second time that day. He feels much more comfortable this time and breathes easily as he reverses out of his parking space. His brother has managed a whole morning by himself and there hasn't been even a minor catastrophe.

He arrives at the E.D. punctually but as soon as he's through the doors he hears his name being called. He spins around to see Elle striding purposely towards him.

"Ethan, just who I wanted to see," she announces. "Ambulance control have been on the line; they need assistance with an extraction. The patient needs sedation but she's trapped 40ft down." She barely gives him chance to take it in before she beckons to someone over his back. "Actually, you can take Alicia with you."

"Alicia?" He turns to find her right behind him. "Oh, um, hi."

She looks equally unimpressed to see him and he remembers that, in the chaos of the past week, he's neglected to reply to several of her messages.

Elle's still smiling, oblivious. "You said you wanted to shadow, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Alicia says. "Can't wait."

There's a beat of awkward silence.

"Right," Ethan says. "Better go and get changed."

Ethan senses Alicia follow him down the corridor but he doesn't acknowledge her until they're in the staff room, safely away from prying ears. However, his lack of communication seems to have riled her further, for when he finally turns, she's got her hands on her hips.

"It's not a problem me coming, is it?"

"No, no, of course not."

"Good." Her expression softens. "Sure you're okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just- you're yet to take me up on that offer of a drink. I thought, maybe, I was a bit full on and that you've been avoiding me?"

He exhales. "I've not been at work, Alicia."

"I know," she says. "But I did text. Quite a few times, actually."

"Right, yes. It's just, with Cal, you know. I didn't want to leave him again until I knew he would be okay."

"Why, did something happen?"

Ethan considers telling her about their argument, about Cal collapsing in the street, about pouring their hearts out to each other in a way they never had before. But instead, he finds himself shaking his head. "He just needs a bit of help around the flat."

"You've still got to have a life though. Cal won't mind, I'm sure."

"I'd rather not risk it," he says. He knows Cal would insist on him going to the pub if he knew it was an option, but he's still got the niggling guilt in his mind from leaving Cal alone so long he reached breaking point.

Alicia pulls the green jumpsuit from the locker and holds it up against herself. "What do you think?" she asks, modelling it.

"Green's your colour," he tells her, thinking she'd still look beautiful in whatever shade she wore and anything from a paramedics uniform to a ball gown to a-

"Best get it on then, hadn't we?"

"P-pardon?"

She laughs while he blushes. "The _uniform_ , Ethan!"

"Right, yes," he says. He makes no move to get changed.

She looks at him searchingly. "Come on, whatever it is, spit it out."

"It's just, I suppose after everything with the helicopter…"

"You thought being confined in a small, dark space may not be at the top of my priority list."

He angles his head to the side. "I don't think anyone would blame you for backing out."

"Backing out?" she echoes. "I'm not backing out. If anyone is backing out I would have thought it be you. You know, after what happened to Cal… putting yourself in a perilous position… if you're scared, people would understand."

"I'm not scared."

"Well then let's stop worrying."

Ethan nods. "Underground cave, here we come!"

The journey is only saved from being uncomfortable by a paramedic that rivals even Jez for monopolising the conversation. Ethan is happy to murmur the odd sound of agreement if it means keeping small talk between him and Alicia to the minimum. His own feelings towards her seem to have multiplied his usual levels of awkwardness.

Yet when they jump out from the ambulance, he's still careful to be a gentleman, taking the lead through the overgrown woods. Although he sets a fast pace, he's careful to ensure Alicia's not getting left behind, and that he holds back any protruding branches and alerts her of errant twigs that could cause a trip hazard.

The path leads to a clearing and he's surprised by the number of professionals involved in the case. He identifies Jez and leads Alicia towards him. The paramedic gives them a clear briefing on their patient but finishes with a warning to be quick as the cave could collapse any minute. Ethan gulps and exchanges a wary look with Alicia.

When his feet touch the bottom of the cave, relief that he's no longer suspended in mid-air quickly turns to concern. The cave is much darker than he had anticipated and he squints despite the light from their head torches. The thick mud has generated a dank smell and he can feel damp and cold air lapping at his exposed face. He wishes he was back home with Cal in the comfort of their lounge.

"My son, Ben," their patient says by way of greeting. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Your son is fine. He's being looked after," Ethan replies.

"Thank you, Doctor..?"

"Sorry, it's Doctor Hardy," he confirms. "And this is Doctor Monroe."

"Professor Lockford," she says. "Very pleased to meet you."

He gives a polite nod but his gaze quickly moves to the injured foot. "Can you take a pedal pulse please?" he asks of Alicia. While he waits for his colleague, his brain catches up and his head shoots back to his patient. "Sorry, Professor _Lockford,_ did you say? You- you didn't write a paper, did you? It, um, focused on degenerative diseases."

"Yes," she says, "as it happens, I did."

He gawps. "That was you?!" Out of all the reading he did following his diagnosis, the progress of her team gave him the greatest hope. "Three years research, wasn't it? Very impressive work, _fascinating_ concept."

"Pulse is weak," Alicia interrupts, "and her foot feels cold."

"So do you have a particular interest in neuro-degenerative diseases?" Professor Lockford asks.

Ethan almost smiles. Here she is, trapped and in pain, and she still wants to talk about her research. He knew from her enthusiastic prose that he could trust her. Still, he can't say the words out loud while remaining composed; his discussion with Cal was testament of that. "Just an insomniac who reads medical journals all night," he lies.

"Ethan," Alicia prompts.

"Okay, yes. Professor, are you allergic to any medication?"

"No."

"And are you on any meds at the moment?"

She shakes her head.

"Okay, great. We're going to give you some more analgesia first so you can't feel anything and then we'll get you moved out of here."

As Alicia passes him the syringe he feels her eyes bearing into his. He hopes she hadn't read further into his interest in degenerative diseases than he wants. But before he can say anything to deter her curiosity, dust rains down on them. He squints up and is relieved to see it was nothing more than a small crumbling of ground. The noise as it hit his helmet had sounded much worse than it was. Even so, it refocuses him and he's determined to get his patient, _his professor_ , to safety.

"I'm going to hold her leg steady," he tells Alicia, "and you can reduce the fracture."

"Me?" There's a wobble in Alicia's voice. "No, no way, I can't-"

"Yeah you," he interrupts. "You can do it, it's fine." He looks her straight in the eye. "Alicia, we have to or she could lose her leg."

He barely has time to acknowledge the fear in his own voice before he's back there at the site of the helicopter crash, his brother sprawled in front of him, unconscious and unresponsive as Lily severed his leg. His heart hammers in his ears. He can't put someone else through the same torment his brother has gone through over the past few weeks.

This time it's Alicia who gives the encouraging nod. "Okay," she says. "Talk me through it."

Ethan's still frozen in his memories; the whiteness of Cal's face, the twisted redness of his mangled leg, the noise of his splintering bone, the sheer fear that he was about to lose his brother. He lets out a gasp as if someone has punched him in the stomach.

"Ethan?"

Alicia's voice guides him to face her and he focuses, taking several deep breaths and reminding himself of the job in hand. "Right," he says. "Okay."

He watches carefully as Alicia takes hold of their patient's foot and gently begins to rotate it. He'd have no doubts if they were in a hospital environment but he knows they're all on edge and he won't allow himself to breathe easily until the procedure is complete. He thinks she's doing well until the professor screams in pain and Alicia lets go of the foot, her body sagging as she looks up at him helplessly.

"Carry on," he encourages her. "You're doing well." He waits until she relaxes back into her role as a doctor before turning to their patient. "Professor, this will be sore, I'm afraid, but it will feel much better as soon as it's relocated."

Before anyone can continue, they're hit by a second bout of falling rubble and forced to cower until it subsides. The lumps of dirt don't hurt but it gives him a taster of what it will feel like if the whole cave collapses down on them and by the time it stops, he's light-headed with fear. From the shocked silence, he suspects they're all feeling as vulnerable.

"Do it," the professor says suddenly.

"Sure?"

She nods.

Alicia's hands are shaky and yet she takes hold of the ankle much more assertively that she had first time. Ethan can tell that she's gradually increasing traction by the position of her shoulders and, despite a few seconds of grunting, the leg jerks back into place with a loud click.

"Well done," he says, his words intended for both women. "Right. I think it's time we get ourselves above ground, don't you?"

They strap their patient to the back board and attach the wires that will lift her to safety. It's something neither of them have done before and Ethan feels much less confident securing her then he would carrying out most medical procedures. When he's checked and double checked the fasteners, he gives the word and the rescue team start to hoist her.

He and Alicia steady her as she's lifted but the movements seem to further unsettle the cave walls and they're showered with falling mud and stones. He holds his breath and hopes that it'll remain nothing more than the previous disturbances but Alicia cries out in pain. His head shoots up, ignoring the grit that slips between his glasses and his eyes, and can just about make out a tear in her uniform sleeve.

He can't reach her until their patient is pulled high enough and by that point, all it takes is another downpour of earth and she falls to the floor.

"Are you alright?" he asks, rushing to her side. "Are you hurt?"

She shakes her head but her face is creased and he doesn't believe her. He places a trembling hand on her shoulder and wishes he was able to tell her honestly that everything will be okay.

"I need to get you out of there pronto," Jez yells from above.

Ethan nods to no-one. He knows Jez is right, but he also knows from Alicia's heaving shoulders and shallow breaths that she's in no fit state of mind to be going anywhere anytime soon.

"I can't do this again," she says, breathlessly. "I can't!"

A solitary tear trickles down her face.

* * *

Cal lets out a noise of frustration and jabs viciously at the remote. The television falls silent. It had been the third film he'd started and given up on since Ethan left him after lunch. Nothing is engaging him. All he can concentrate on his the boredom in his veins. He wishes he had his brother there to annoy.

Ethan had made sure he was surrounded by anything he could possibly need but Cal didn't want biscuits and he certainly didn't want a book of Sudokus. He toys with his phone, wondering whether a five minute conversation with his brother could alleviate his boredom. But he'd started the day determined to prove he could manage by himself, and he thinks he should only cave for an actual crisis or possibly if he drains his flask of coffee.

He's started to notice things about their lounge that have never occurred to him before like how the television buzzes even when it's turned off and how that stain he'd left to the right of the light switch looks a little like a silhouette of a curvaceous woman. He'd never had a strong opinion of the room before but now he's spent two weeks trapped within the four walls, he's beginning to detest it. It's modern, comfortable and has a much better colour scheme since he and Ethan redecorated, but if someone gave him a hammer and two legs to stand on, he would willingly drive the weapon into the wall. He sighs. The clock ticks loudly all the way from the kitchen. He throws his head back in exasperation and his gaze falls on the high pile of books Mrs Beauchamp left on their dining table.

He's never been a fan of essay writing and particularly not essay writing when it was extra-credit rather than mandatory. But curiosity gets the better of him. He hops over to the table, ignoring Ethan's instructions to stick to crutches, and selects the book at the top of the pile. It's a thick, glossy, new-edition and he pulls a face at the small print of the writing. There's not a chance he's reading every word of that. The second book is a compilation of various trial write-ups and looks marginally more accessible, if only for the summaries at the top of each section. The third, fourth and fifth book remain untouched. He rolls his eyes at himself but opens the laptop that Ethan had thoughtfully left on the table and scans through the email Connie sent him with a detailed synopsis of the research topic.

He shakes his head, slumps back in the chair, and considers how the phone call might go when he tells her he's had second thoughts about completing the project. Surprisingly, he's less concerned about Connie's scathing reaction than how he may feel if he regrets turning it down. He opens a black Word document, types the heading, then immediately closes the file down without saving it. He exhales through his nose. He opts for the book at the bottom of the stack this time and opens it at random. The picture hooks him in but as he begins to read, the aching monotony in his brain starts to drift away.

He shuffles in his seat and settles down for an afternoon reading.

* * *

Ethan flinches as another torrent of dirt rains down on them. Small pebbles ricochet off his helmet. He breaths in deeply through his nose, determined that one of them will remain calm, and turns to face Alicia.

"I know you're scared," he says, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And I know why. It get it, honestly. But we have to go. Now! Please!" She makes no sign of having absorbed his words. He edges closer. Even in the dingy light he can see the mascara stains on her cheeks. "Alicia," he says. "Alicia, look at me." Again, he's back there with Cal in the hospital, talking his brother down from a panic attack, but he perseveres, gently stroking her cheek. "Just breathe in…" he says. She finally meets his eyes and takes a gulping breath. "…and out." He keeps his hands on her while she gradually calms. That's it, in… and out… well done, well done."

He makes the most of Alicia looking away to dab at her eyes to send a fervent glace to the hole in the earth, many feet above them. He can just about make out the outline of the paramedics and rescue team. The bright light of daylight hurts his eyes but it's a million times preferable to the oppressive cave. He turns back to Alicia and attempts an encouraging smile. "We need to stand up," he tells her.

"I can't!"

"You can, you can, hold on to me."

She grabs his shoulders and he wastes no time helping her to her feet. She's still crying but she's much calmer now, taking such visible breaths he can almost hear her counting them out loud.

They attach themselves to the wire and as they're winched up, her body comes to rest on his. He can feel her trembling but in the cold of the cave, it's welcome to have the heat of another person keeping him warm. She tightens her grasp on him and he does the same. He's struggled with heights since Cal left him stranded up a tree when they were kids and the fact his only safety net is a thin cable does nothing to ease his fears.

And then the line hitches and they're left swaying in mid-air. Ethan risks a look upwards but there's no obvious reason for the delay. When he lowers his head, he's surprised by how much closer Alicia seems. At first he wonders if he's imagining it but then her hand gently traces his back and she leans into his chest, her eyes never leaving his. There's something in her gaze that he can't interpret but whatever it is encourages him to inch nearer, tilting his head to the side so their helmets don't clash. They're so close he can almost taste her. But then they're thrown by a violent jerk of the wire and the winch starts moving again. He exhales deeply and her hand falls from his back.

At ground level, strong arms pull them from the hole. Jez is grinning like an idiot but Ethan focuses on him rather than permitting the eye contact Alicia is trying to make. He swallows. He tells himself it's for the best the kiss didn't happen; he can't allow a distraction from caring for Cal.

He and Alicia travel separately back to the hospital and, while he wants to ensure she's okay, he's glad for the respite so he has a chance to let his heartrate return to normal.

When he seeks her out in cubicles, her arm has been bandaged and she's waiting for a tetanus shot. He hovers awkwardly by the end of her bed, unsure whether he can stop worrying now she's confirmed the cut on her arm is nothing more than a scratch.

"Listen, thank you for helping me in the cave," she says. "I swear I'd still be down there if it wasn't for you."

"Oh, it was nothing. You helped me too. Her leg… well, it reminded me of-"

"Of Cal." She completes the sentence for him. "I know, I saw it on your face. You went dead pale, you know."

Ethan feels his cheeks burn and bows his head, hoping she doesn't notice. "Um, well, you saved her leg anyway, so."

" _We_ saved her leg." She smiles. "I reckon we make a good team."

Ethan gives a shy smile in return. "Yes. Looks like we do."

"So…" Alicia says, eyebrows high. "That drink? You're not going to leave me hanging twice are you? Let's face it, after a shift like that, I think we deserve one."

The warm buzz in Ethan's chest drops to the pit of his stomach. "I-" he stammers. "I- I can't. Not tonight, I'm sorry."

"Oh. Oh, fine. No worries," Alicia says, but the grin has disappeared from her face. "Another time then."

"Yeah. Yeah, definitely." He pauses. "It's not- I do want to. It's just-"

"Cal," Alicia finishes again.

"It's my first day away from him. He's not all that independent yet," Ethan explains. "Even the basics, cooking, carrying, it's much harder on crutches. I want to be there for him and- and being out in the evening as well as all day, it just isn't fair on him."

"It's okay, I understand." Alicia places her hand on top of his. "You're a good brother to him, Ethan."

"Well, I nearly lost the chance to be." He finishes his sentence but his lips remain slightly parted as he fights the prickling in his eyes. "I, um, I should get back to work. I'm glad everything's okay… your arm and, um, you."

She nods. "I'll be back too as soon as Lily lets me."

Ethan heads straight for the professor. She's still in Resus but she's stable and her family are by her side. He listens from a distance as they argue over her culpability for the accident, about whether it's time for her to put family ahead of her career.

When he finally gets a chance to talk to her, her eyes light up and she thanks him for showing an interest in her work. While he monitors her condition she tells him about her appeal for research funding and how, if she gets it, she'll be one step closer to finding a cure for all kinds of gene degenerations. When the word _Huntington's_ is mentioned as one of the diseases she's hoping to cure, Ethan's sure his heart skips a beat. And it's less than half an hour later that she takes the phone call confirming she's been granted the funding that could help save his life.

"Sorry to eavesdrop," he says, his chest pounding. "But it sounds like congratulations are in order?"

"First time I've secured two million dollars dressed as stylishly as this," she replies, looking down at her hospital gown.

He studies her face but she doesn't smile and her eyes are void of the sparkle he saw while she was explaining her research. "You don't seem altogether pleased."

She slumps back into the pillows. "Burning the candle at both ends… taking medication I bought online… ending up in here," she muses. "It's not my smartest move."

"No," he agrees.

"Don't worry, lessen truly learnt."

"I'm glad." He takes a breath. "So. When do you go?"

"They're expecting me as soon as this is healed. Six months of freezing my butt off in Baltimore!" She pauses. "And six months of talking to my son by phone, not being able to hug him, or give him his Christmas and birthday presents, or- or help him through his exams." Her voice breaks and she wipes a hand across her eyes. "But I can't say no to this," she whimpers, "it would be so selfish!"

Although a hollowness is threatening to envelop Ethan's chest, he shakes his head. If there's one thing he's learnt over the last few weeks it's that nothing matters more than family. "No, no it wouldn't," he says gently. "You have to do what is right for you and your son."

She stares at him with eyes flooded with tears. Second pass and Ethan feels his body weaken as his hopes for a healthy future drift away.

"Sorry," she eventually says. "Looks like you'll have to find someone else's fascinating papers to cure your insomnia."

He's not sure how he manages it, but he lets a faked chuckle escape his lips.

* * *

Cal jumps at the sound of the front door closing. He slams the textbook shut and minimises the Word document before Ethan makes it as far as the lounge. "What are you doing home?" he demands of his brother.

"Um, it's half past 6, I've finished for the day." Ethan pulls a face. "What did you think?"

Cal double checks the time on his phone and frowns. The last few hours have passed in an instant. "Lost track of the time, that's all" he says.

Ethan nods towards the pile of books. "Been doing that project?"

"Uh, not really," Cal lies. He thinks about the pages of notes he's typed and how Ethan will more than likely want to read over and correct his grammar. "Just seeing where to place it on a scale of awfulness."

"And did you reach a conclusion?"

Oh, easily a 9.5," Cal says. "Don't suppose you fancy doing it and letting me take the credit?"

"Mrs Beauchamp will be able to tell. We have completely different writing styles."

"I'm sure you could imitate me," Cal says, secretly glad his brother didn't agree.

"And give myself a headache by rocketing from one point to another without explanation? No thanks."

"You can make yourself useful elsewhere then, Nibbles. I'm starving."

"Me too," Ethan says. "Shall we order in?"

At the rarity of his brother being the one to suggest getting a takeaway, Cal scrutinises his appearance. Ethan's smiling but tell-tale wrinkles in the corner of his eyes expose his tiredness.

"Busy day?"

"Um, no more than normal," Ethan replies, but Cal can tell he's forcing energy he doesn't have.

"Sit down," he tells his brother. "Even I can phone for a pizza, you know."


	11. Chapter 11

Hey everyone, sorry it's been a bit of a longer wait than usual. As well as being really busy, I want to explain that I've found this chapter quite difficult to write and that caused further delays. I had this ambitious vision of an emotionally charged chapter but I wanted it to be realistic as well, so I did lots of research and watched lots of videos. However, then when I came to writing it, I found that I was so busy writing about the process that it was less interesting to read. I think I have managed to improve it a bit since then, but I'm still worried it's a bit boring (and it's stupidly long, I got carried away). Anyway, I hope it's okay. It's not as good as I wanted it to be but I got to the point where I just wanted to get something published. Really appreciate any comments letting me know what you think.

 **casualtyfics111:** Thank you for reviewing. Glad you liked my version of that episode. I hadn't remembered it that clearly but when I watched the Ethan and Alicia scenes back I was surprised at how much stuff I could tweak to fit in with this plot. Hope you enjoy this update too.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Pleased you enjoyed the last chapter and development with the Ethan/Alicia subplot. Thank you for reviewing.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Thank you so much. I think I was lucky with how much of that I could use to reference this plot with Cal, particularly the leg injury comparisons, but I'm glad you thought it worked. Alicia's one of my middling characters but she can be quite fun to write so I'm glad she's coming across likeable but flawed. There will be more of her but I don't want to put too much in as I know she's not everyone's cup of tea, plus of course the brother's are always my main focus. Thought it was time I gave Cal some happier scenes. How much I miss him winding up Ethan like that! (just the banter not the genuine arguments, of course). Hope you like this chapter too and thank you so much for your kind words that I've somehow written an essay responding too, whoops!

* * *

 **11.**

* * *

Cal checks the time on his phone and sighs. He can't ever recall being early for an appointment before and suspects he wouldn't have been for this one either if it wasn't for Ethan waking him twenty minutes before his first alarm was due and tricking him into believing a news bulletin had reported bad traffic. He throws an irritated glance at his brother at the memory.

Ethan is like a statue, back straight, eyes on an overfilled noticeboard opposite. Cal frowns. His own heart is thudding against his chest, but he doesn't understand why his brother is acting so anxious; Ethan is there for moral support, nothing else. He shuffles in his seat and makes a show of stretching his arms and scanning the room.

There are only three people in the waiting room other than them; an middle aged, plump woman in a wheelchair, her adolescent daughter moodily cross-armed and a man only a little older than Cal with hefty shoulders and a prosthetic limb poking out from beneath his shorts. Cal stares at the leg. He's seen them before, both prior to his accident and in the multiple brochures he's been given since, but now he feels simultaneously hot and cold and he has to look away.

Ethan, next to him, finally moves. "Okay?"

Cal realises he must have let out a gasp. He gives a robotic nod. "Told you we were too early," he says.

"Better that than late."

Cal doesn't reply but his brother must have interpreted the silence correctly for he reaches out and squeezes his knee. It's comforting but it doesn't rid him of his nerves.

"Caleb Knight?" a voice calls.

Cal detects a faint accent from the way she pronounces the first syllable of his name with a short A. His head lifts and he stares at the woman who called him. She's smartly dressed with long dark waves tied back in a ponytail and is smiling expectantly towards him, yet he doesn't move. His body feels glued to the chair. Ethan is on his feet, bustling around, picking both their bags up from the floor and offering him his crutches. Cal can almost visualise himself following them down the corridor and yet Ethan has to hiss his name before he manages to even stand.

Now that his arms have turned to jelly, each step puts pressure on his shoulders and he's sure he's returned to being as slow as he was those first few days on crutches. The last thing he wants to do is fall over before he's even started physio. He doesn't know if he's going to throw up or black out. His heart hammers in his ears. He hates this. He hates these perpetual nerves. He shuffles backwards and leans against the wall, trying to work out how he's become this shadow of a person. He hates how his confidence was stolen at the same time as his leg.

The seconds drag until Ethan notices he's stopped following and turns around. His brother, wide-eyed and confused, returns to his side. "What's up?"

"I can't do it," Cal mutters, his voice so low that only his brother can hear.

Ethan shifts the second bag onto his shoulder and ducks so that he meets Cal's downward stare. "Yes, yes you can."

Cal shakes his head.

"I know you're nervous," Ethan continues. "And it's okay to be. But you need to get yourself in there and try and I promise everything will be okay."

He wants to believe his brother but he knows if he gets in that room and finds he can't do what's asked of him, the tiny bit of hope left in his heart will shatter to pieces. He stares down the corridor, where the doctor is patiently waiting by her consultation room. No doubt she thinks he's an idiot already.

"Yeah?" Ethan asks

Cal takes a deep breath. He knows he can't stay in the corridor forever and the only thing that feels worse than making it to the consultation room is fleeing to the car without even trying. "Yeah," he agrees, despite his stomach still churning.

He swings slowly down the corridor. Ethan's hand is on his back and although it makes it harder to move, Cal focuses on his brother's reassuring touch and wills himself to keep going.

The doctor smiles as he joins her and he's relieved to see that there's no sign of judgement or doubt on her face. She holds the door open and welcomes him to the room. It's much bigger than he had expected, filled with gym equipment; a treadmill, parallel bars and weights. At the far end a man in a t-shirt is wiping down a cross-trainer. Cal expects them to head towards the apparatus but instead she leads him to a small desk in the corner and indicates for them both to sit.

"Cal-eb?" she says again.

He doesn't correct her pronunciation but takes the hand she offers him and replies with a single word. "Cal."

"I'm Doctor Francesca Moretti," she says. "I'm a prosthetist, so I'll be working with you while you get used to your artificial leg. Down there is Mohammed and he's a physio therapist."

From the other end of the room, the physio lifts a hand as a wave. "It's Mo!" he calls.

Doctor Moretti turns to Ethan. "Friend or family?"

"Um, brother. Ethan."

"Nice to meet you both." Her smile is warm. "Ethan, it's great to have you here for support. And Cal, how are you feeling today?"

"Fine," Cal says.

"Fine," she repeats, blandly. She gives him a knowing grin. "Now treat me to some different adjectives."

"How about… okay," Cal replies stubbornly. He expects her to continue to conversation but she just nods and watches him intently. The silence forces words from his mouth. "Uh, apprehensive. Hopeful. Fearful." He feels his cheek burn at the honesty she somehow dragged from him and folds his arms across his chest. "Enough adjectives for you?"

"That'll do," she says softly. "First thing I want you to do is relax, okay? I know it's easier said than done but trust me, your body will move much more easily without all this tension. I can get you some camomile tea if it helps?"

Cal wrinkles his nose.

"I know, but you'd be surprised at how many people take me up on that offer," she says. "But I'm with you. I'd rather have a gin to relax than that funny smelling stuff."

"Is this where you pour me a G&T?"

"Ha, nice try! For some reason I'm not allowed to drink on duty and I'm not sitting here watching you have one if I can't!"

Cal gives a natural laugh this time and he feels the tightness of his chest start to ease. He studies the prosthetist while trying to ensure it's not obvious he's doing so. From her name and accent, he suspects she's Italian. She's older than him and Ethan, but not substantially, he estimates early forties. She's not what he expected but he's glad she seems friendly rather than the pushy, self-important physio he'd met at the hospital.

"Alright if I examine your leg before we start?" she asks.

Cal nods. He's not completely accustomed to his leg yet and suspects a small part of him will never be, but he's less fazed by that then he is at the prospect of learning to walk with a prosthetic. He heaves his leg onto his lap and starts to unwind the compression garment.

"That's really neat," she says. "Did you do the bandaging yourself?"

"Yeah. Uh, I'm a doctor, I should know how."

She doesn't seem shocked at his identity and Cal suspects she knows exactly who he is from the news; he had managed to avoid all stories himself but the amount of correspondence he'd had from old acquaintances made it clear that the media had reported on him.

He finishes undressing his leg and hands the bandage to his brother. He stretches his bare leg towards her, hands supporting beneath his knee, and flinches at the warm touch of her skin.

"There's still a slight oedema but I suspect that's gone down a lot since the injury?"

"Yeah, the last week especially."

She angles herself to check the end of the stump. "All healed nicely." She pauses. "Have you been experiencing any problems with pain or cramping?"

"No, but I'm still drugged up," he says, "It just aches a bit when I'm due a dose."

"No phantom pains?"

"Not since the first few days."

"And you've been doing the exercises and desensitisation techniques?"

"Yeah," Cal says. It's not a complete lie, he's done a few over the past week, but he still shoots his brother a warning glance to stay silent.

"Okay. We're definitely ready to get a prosthesis on that." She stretches a tape measure around his leg and nods. "I'll select a few for now and then we'll decide which best suits your size and shape."

As she disappears, Ethan reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. "Hey, well done."

"I haven't done anything yet!"

"You made it this far," Ethan says, almost a whisper. "That's the hardest bit."

Anyone else would tell him the months of physio were the hardest, but his brother knows him well enough to sense that the emotional battle is more difficult than the physical. Still, he falls silent, reluctant to let Ethan see that he agrees.

Doctor Moretti returns with the prosthetic limb and a handful of liners.

"Okay, first things first, you need to know how to put the prosthesis on." She pushes her chair closer to him so that they're face to face. "I'll show you however many times you need but I'm not letting you loose with the leg until I know you're proficient attaching it because otherwise it could do more damage than good."

Cal holds his leg out to her. She stretches the narrow liner and feeds his leg into the end of it.

"Right, you have to roll it on like this," she says, firmly pushing the tube up his leg.

Cal inhales sharply.

She pauses. "Okay?"

He nods. He can't explain why he gasped. It didn't hurt but it was a different sensation and his leg seems extra sensitive to everything now.

She continues to move again, working the liner further up his leg. "It's no tighter that the compression garment you've been using but it does go a little higher on the thigh, so you may feel a slight difference there." She completes the job and then dips her head so that she can see his face. "Okay?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

"Now your turn."

Cal lets her remove the liner and then takes it in his hands. It's a different technique to putting on the bandage and he's surprised at how resistant it is as he rolls it up his leg.

"Good… good," she says. "Just a little further. Yes, just make sure all the air is out of it like this," she continues, flattening it just below his knee. "Yeah that looks good." She smiles. "So let's do it again."

"Again? Can't we get on with that?" he asks, nodding towards the prosthetic.

"Oh, you're one of those impatient types," she teases. "I should have known from the crutches. Most come to their first appointment by wheelchair."

Cal scowls but he can't help but feel a stab of pride that he managed something already that most of her patients do not.

"All in good time," she says. "I promise. Do it correctly once more then we'll move onto the next stage."

Cal huffs but accepts the liner from her and tries again. He's concentrating so hard that he doesn't notice what his brother is up to until the prosthetist draws his attention to it.

"Taking notes?" Doctor Moretti says to Ethan.

Cal pulls the bandage into place and turns to see his brother scribbling in a familiar notebook. "Oh, yeah, he does that," he says.

"Don't pretend you didn't ask me to," Ethan replies swiftly, with a grin.

Cal rolls his eyes but turns back to the prosthetist. "I forget to listen sometimes," he concedes. "Ethan is the diligent brother. I'm the handsome one."

She laughs. "Also the modest one?"

"No comment," he says. "Except, I think I've got this liner on perfectly _again_."

She inspects his work. "Pretty good."

"So?"

"So now I'll show you how to dress the prosthesis. Do you have your spare trainer?"

Ethan fishes through the bag and hands it over.

She slots it on, knots the laces, and then picks up what looks like another liner from her desk. "This is called a knee sleeve," she says. "Half of it goes on the prosthesis, half on your leg." As she talks she slides it onto the artificial limb. "Now, that listening of yours, make sure it's turned on because this is important."

"Hear that bro?" Cal says, but he gulps and leans forward slightly, hoping she knows he's only joking.

"You need to roll the sleeve down like this," she says, folding the sleeve so that the upper half is over the prosthetic as well. "You must expose the top of the prosthesis here otherwise when you put your leg in the sleeve will get sucked down with it and that can pinch." She pauses. "Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Good." She angles the leg towards him. "Okay, I'm going to put your leg into it now just so you can see how it works."

As she directs his leg into the socket his breath catches in his throat and he fights the urge to pull away. It pinches and he's surprised by how firmly she's pressing it against him.

"Work with me," she says, "push down into it."

He does as he's asked and knows it's fitted by the sensation of something squeezing his knee. He blinks at the leg. It doesn't seem real having something from his calf to his foot when he cannot feel it.

"When you're used to walking on the leg you'll be able to push it into place by standing on it, but at first you may need help securing it." She rolls the folded section of the knee sleeve up over his leg. "How does that feel?"

"Weird."

"Is it causing you any pain or discomfort?"

Cal shakes his head but his eyes are transfixed on the new leg. He can't decide if he likes it or not. It certainly doesn't feel like part of him. It somehow seems thinner than he'd expected and he doesn't know if he can trust it with his weight. He can feel the sensation of a muscle twitching in the prosthetic ankle but nothing moves and he knows he only imagined it.

"Cal," Ethan says loudly.

Cal's head spins to his brother. Ethan has placed his pen on top of his notebook and is barely managing to disguise a look of concern. He jerks his head towards Doctor Moretti and Cal realises she must have been talking to him.

"Sorry," he says. "What?"

"I was asking if you were ready to try putting it on yourself," she says. "But we can take a breather if you need one."

"No, it's okay."

"It's normal to feel overwhelmed."

"I'm not," Cal insists.

He can't tell if she believes him, but she's respectful enough to take his word.

"Right, well removing the leg is just the reverse of putting it on." She folds the top half of the sleeve back over the artificial leg. "I've got hold of the prosthesis but you need to pull your leg out of it. Don't be afraid to use your hands if you need to."

He places his hands under his knee and tugs his leg out of the prosthesis.

"Good," she says as she disassembles the knee sleeve from the leg. "Want to try for yourself?"

Cal runs a hand down his face. Although he'd felt uncomfortable with the leg attached, he already feels lost without it. His head is pounding and he wonders if it's possible to reach the point where there's too many thoughts to fit inside it. "Uh, yeah," he says.

"Okay. Ethan, take my seat," she orders.

Ethan stands so suddenly that the notebook falls from his lap. He clumsily retrieves it and takes Doctor Moretti's seat, his forehead creasing in confusion.

"I don't want you to do anything unless Cal asks you to," she says. "But I can't be with him at all times so it's important somebody else knows what to do, even if you then pass the skills onto a more appropriate person."

"Yes," Ethan says. He resettles his glasses further up his nose. "We live together so, um, it will be me anyway."

"Even better," she says. She hands Cal the knee sleeve and pushes the prosthesis nearer to him. "Okay, Cal, go ahead. I'll leave you to it unless you need my help."

He swallows. It feels much less surreal now that it's Ethan by his side rather than a stranger and with that comes an additional burst of pressure. He clenches his fists and is relieved that when he relaxes them, his hands have stopped shaking.

He stretches the sleeve and manages to tug it down over the artificial leg, remembering to fold the excess back over as well, opening the space for his own leg to fit in. He shuffles to the edge of his seat and holds his leg towards the prosthesis. It takes a few clumsily attempts to angle it correctly so it fits into the hollow shell and when he manages he pushes down so sharply that the prosthesis slides away.

He grunts. "Ethan, can you just, uh, hold it still?"

"Do you want me to push it on?"

"No," Cal says. "I think I can do it." He pushes into it again but something isn't quite working. "Actually, hold it up a bit? And then- yeah." As his brother does as he's asked, his leg somehow clicks further into the socket. He looks uncertainly towards the doctor. "Is that it?"

She takes the leg from Ethan and gently tugs at it. "That's it. Well done."

He relaxes back onto the chair. "Okay, great."

"Ready to get on your feet?"

Cal immediately tenses again. With one small success he'd almost forgotten about the rest of the journey. "What, now?"

"Unless you have something better to do?"

"You- you said he could have a break if he wanted one," Ethan suggests, looking nervously from one of them to the other.

"I don't want one," Cal says. "I just-" He takes a deep breath and gives a single nod. "No, okay, let's do it."

Doctor Moretti beckons Mo the physio and he approaches with a wheelchair. He parks it next to Cal and holds out his hand, giving a fist bump rather than a handshake.

"Alright, man," he says. "So, Francesca here will get you sorted with the prosthesis but my job is to get you walking fluently, so looking at posture, balance and weight bearing as well as working on muscle strengthening exercises." He pauses. "Sound cool? Right, hop in the wheelchair for me and we'll go over to the bars."

"When he says _hop_ ," Doctor Moretti interrupts, "he means _gently transfer_. Cal, just keep your weight on your good leg for now as you stand up and we'll slide the wheelchair in behind you."

Cal lowers himself onto the wheelchair and allows the doctor to help him shift his artificial leg onto the footrest. As Mo drives him away, Cal strains to look behind him, desperate for his brother to follow.

"Ethan," he says. "Come on."

Ethan walks towards the equipment hesitantly. "Am I alright here?" he asks the doctor.

"Of course. As long as we have enough space to work."

Mo parks the wheelchair in front of the parallel bars and Cal gawps up at them apprehensively. He's lightheaded with nerves but there's also a small buzz of excitement somewhere in his chest and he does his best to focus on that instead.

"Okay, before we get you standing, I need to make you aware that the prosthesis will feel heavy at first," Doctor Moretti says. "That's partly because you've got used to being without that part of your leg and partly because it _is_. The permanent prosthesis will be much lighter and easier to manoeuvre."

Cal nods. He doesn't think he can manage any words even if he had to.

"All I need you to do to start with is stand up. Keep your weight on your good leg and hold on to the bars."

Cal gets to his feet. He's sure that bit should be easy as he's been getting around the flat for several weeks now but his thighs feel weak and he clings tightly to the parallel bars.

"Now gradually, as slowly as you like, distribute your weight so it's equally across both legs."

Cal rotates his hips so that his left side rests onto the prosthesis but as he feels the additional pressure hit his knee, he hastily reverts back to his good leg. A noise escapes his throat. He shakes his head, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

"It's okay," Doctor Moretti says. "I know it's hard to trust something that you can't feel but this leg is strong and sturdy and right now it's attached to you so you're not going to fall." She nods encouragingly. "Lean on the bars if that helps."

He breathes through his open mouth and tries again. This time he takes it slower, testing the strength of the artificial limb, and pushing down on the parallel bars just in case it gives way. He can feel his weight shifting onto the prosthesis from the increased tightness on his knee but it's hard to tell exactly how much pressure he's exhibiting.

Mo steps between the bars and stands just in front of Cal. He places his hands on Cal's hips and gently taps on the left side. "Lower this a little more."

Cal isn't sure he can lower his hip but tries anyway and finds himself in a different position yet again.

"That's even now," Mo tells the doctor.

"Great," she replies. She smiles at Cal in the same way she had done when they were joking earlier. "Now for the fun bit."

Cal tries to smile but his face won't work. He sends a frantic look to Ethan and his brother gives a nod of encouragement.

"Keep holding onto the bars," Doctor Moretti says, "and try to lift a foot at a time. Right foot first."

Cal frowns as he thinks it through. His right leg is his good leg and therefore he's sure he can lift it, but he's dubious as to whether his left side will hold him upright. He holds his breath and lifts his foot, keeping it in the air for a fleeting second before slamming it back to the ground to stabilise him.

"Good. Again," she says.

He moves for the same foot and this time holds it up a little longer, his fingers tightening around the metal bars. It feels like he's floating except for the force pressing against his left knee.

"Well done. Now change sides. I want you to lift your left foot off the floor."

Cal tries to move the foot but nothing happens. He rounds his shoulders and stares at the artificial limb, willing it to move.

Mo's hand squeezes the top of his thigh. "Pull from here. You're trying to use your knee."

He tries again and eventually his foot moves a few centimetres of the floor. He almost laughs in amazement. "I did it!"

"Keep going, you're doing great," Doctor Moretti says. "How does it feel?"

Cal lifts his leg again, finding it hard to focus on answering her question at the same time. "Uh, like my bones have turned to lead-"

Mo crouches down. "Keep switching legs, try to create a rhythm."

"-but… good," Cal finishes. "I- I think."

"Yeah, not bad," Mo says. "Try to keep your posture straight when you lift your leg. I know it sounds fussy but if we correct these things now, it'll improve your gait in the long run."

Cal tries. It takes a little more effort to lift his leg but he's relieved he can still do it.

"Yeah, better," Mo says. He crouches as repositions Cal's foot on the floor. "Now, I want you to try tilting your foot back and forward, like this." He demonstrates with his own foot, rolling onto his toes and then back onto the heel with the front end in the air. "You'll need to watch your foot so you can see what you're doing. Obviously, you've got no ankle, so you'll be pulling from your knee this time, okay?"

Cal tries. He foot lifts but it's his whole foot rather than just the heel he was aiming for. He huffs and returns it to the floor. The same happens on his second attempt and he tries to rectify it by digging his toes into the floor, but he finds he can't tilt his foot. He frowns. He doesn't know how he's meant to do what's being asked of him without the control of an ankle.

Mo takes the foot in his hands and moves it back to the floor. "I'm holding the toe end, okay?" he says. "Try again."

Cal does as he's asked. He can't feel anything but can see from Mo's hands that he's putting pressure on the front half to keep it on the ground while his heel remains in the air.

"Can you feel which muscles you're using to do that?" Mo taps just behind Cal's knee. "Keep pulling. Yeah, good. Okay, foot back down. Now try again without me."

Cal moves his leg but his whole foot ends up in the air again. He drops it back to the floor and slams his hand against the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ethan take a worried step closer and he twists to face him. "Told you I couldn't do it."

"You can if you persevere."

Cal looks at his brother blankly. He's so tired. All he wants is to pick the easy option and return home, curl up in a ball on their sofa and let Ethan look after him.

Ethan comes closer again and places his hand on top of Cal's on the parallel bars. "Cal, you're not ready to give up. I know you're not."

He wants to ask his brother how he knows that when all he feels is the urge to cry, but he's not having that conversation in front of two relative strangers, so instead he turns his head back to Mo and sighs deeply. "What do I do?"

"Let's try another technique," Mo replies. "Different things work for different people." He tilts his head to the side. "Put your weight on your right and I'm going to guide this leg behind you."

Cal lets Mo manoeuvre his left leg backwards.

"And redistribute your weight." Mo waits as Cal carries out his instruction then smiles. "Hey, what's this _I can't do it_ , man? You're on your toes already."

Cal strains to look behind him and can see that his heel alone is off the floor. His heart lifts a little.

"Can you feel which muscle is doing that?"

"Uh, hamstring."

"So push a little harder and see if you can get your foot flat now."

Cal tries. He can feel the muscle pulling but eventually he manages to lower his heel to the floor. His gaze shoots back to Mo in anticipation.

"Nice!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, that's good. I'll help you move your foot back to starting position," he says, as he does it, "now do the same again but by yourself."

Cal purses his lips. This level of concentration is something he usually reserves for complex medical procedures and it infuriates as much as upsets him that it's now necessary for something that used to be simple. He tries to ignore the defeating thought and manages to drag the foot backwards.

"…and back to the start."

Cal pushes his leg forwards. The movement destabilises him and he clings onto the parallel bars to keep himself upright.

"Well done," Ethan calls.

"Yeah good. Keep doing the same. I'm not going to move your leg for you, but I'm just going to keep my hands on you and try to improve the angle slightly."

Cal continues to practise and even though his hip starts to ache, it feels as if it's getting easier and he's managing a broader movement. He tries to adjust to Mo's corrections but it's hard to tell if he's being successful, even with his eyes firmly fixed on his leg.

"Awesome!" Mo says. "You've got that. The next stage will be to master the same but moving your leg forwards rather than back. That's slightly trickier so in the meantime it's important to work on muscle strength, okay?"

Cal nods and takes a deep breath to try to alleviate the hammering in his chest. "I did okay?"

"Well I'm happy," Mo says. He turns to Doctor Moretti. "Fran, shall we take a break?"

"Yeah, I think that's good progress for the first session." She tucks the wheelchair a little closer to Cal so he can lower himself into it and then wheels him back to the desk. "How was that for you?"

Cal aches with tiredness but he manages a smile. "Uh, yeah," he says, unsure how to verbalise this thoughts.

"Do you have any pain around your stump?"

"No. I can feel it, but it doesn't hurt."

"Good. I'd like to just check it to be on the safe side," she says. "Do you want to remove the prosthesis or shall I?"

Buzzing with newly found confidence, Cal nods. "I'll do it."

He frees his leg and lets the doctor examine it. Without the prosthetic it feels tingly and there is a slight redness but as she doesn't seem concerned by that, neither is he.

She turns to Mo. "Verdict?"

"For first session, I'm happy," he says. "You're dragging the foot rather than lifting it but that'll come with practice. I'll give you a few more exercises to do." He straightens himself so that he's Cal's height again. "In fact, a more sceptical man than me would question how thoroughly you've been doing the exercises to begin with."

Cal settles his good leg back on the ground. He looks at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "I- I- uh, had a few bad weeks," he says. "Started them a little late."

"Okay. I can work with that," Mo says. "You're not the first. But it's important to be honest. You can feel for yourself how much harder it is to lift the prosthesis than your own leg and that means the muscles need conditioning to accommodate it. If you strengthen your thigh you'll be able to move your leg smoothly whereas at the moment you're angling it slightly to the side as you walk."

"Yeah, okay. I'll do the exercises," Cal says and he finds he means it.

"Cool. Because I hate giving these lectures, man, but I can always tell."

Cal bows his head. He understands what Mo means; as a doctor he's also developed a knack for knowing when his patients are withholding information.

"So you're back with us in a few days, I believe?" Doctor Moretti says. "In the meantime, keep using the compression bandage and like Mo says, the exercises are key at this stage."

Cal nods. "Okay. Thank you."

Once he's talked through the exercise, Mo insists on wheeling him to the car. Cal, while wanting to resist, is overcome with tiredness and decides this is one time when it's not worth being stubborn. He manages to get into the passenger seat with minimal intervention from Ethan and says bye to Mo with another fist bump.

Ethan gets in his side of the car but turns to face him rather than starting the engine.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." He smiles but can feel his chin wobbling. "Sure I did alright?"

"Better than alright! Caleb, what you've achieved today, that's incredible."

"I- I didn't think I could."

"I know," Ethan says softly. "But you tried anyway and I'm as proud of you for that as I am for the progress you've made."

Cal fights to keep his expression neutral as Ethan's words sink in. He blinks furiously. "Thanks," he mutters.

Ethan wordlessly passes him a clean handkerchief and Cal dabs at his eyes. He smiles through the tears, grateful for the understanding nod his brother gives him. Although he has a long way to go, he can finally envision a future that he wants to live in.


	12. Chapter 12

Time flies and I can't believe how long it's been since I updated. I'm sorry for the wait, it's been partially due to being busy but mostly writer's block and a lack of confidence and now I'm so nervous to post! I can only hope that some of you are still interested in this. Please leave a review if you are!

The other important thing is that, after some helpful feedback, I have made a few alterations to the last chapter with the aim of making it more realistic. I don't think you'll need to re-read it to understand the story, but I've ended it slightly sooner than I had initially and put some of that into this chapter instead. I'm sure I'm still far from being completely accurate but hopefully a little change has made a big difference.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Thank you for reviewing and being so kind, I'm so appreciative you like all the details I put in. I thought it was time for some positivity for them both but you're right, it's due to both of their efforts that they've got there. I hope you enjoy this chapter too.

 **panic-at-casualty:** Thank you so much! I'm so relieved you like my own characters - more of them to come, but of course, more Cal and Ethan most of all. I did research a lot but admit to getting a few things wrong but I'm glad you felt it worked with lots of info in as I thought that might make it boring. Really appreciate your review and hope you like the update. (also, here I am again apologising about the wait, but it was much longer this time!)

* * *

 **12.**

* * *

If Ethan's surprised to find him lying on his back in the middle of the lounge, one leg in the air, then Cal thinks he does a good job of disguising it. He ignores Ethan's greeting in favour of continuing to count his stretches, but when he reaches 40 he pushes himself into a sitting position and waves his brother over.

"Help me up?"

"Sure."

Cal knows he could manage by himself but that would mean shuffling to the sofa and dragging himself onto that before standing upright. It's much quicker to let his brother take his hands and pull him to his feet. He wraps one arm around Ethan's neck, freeing his brother's hands so that they can rest on his waist as he hops himself steady.

"Okay?" Ethan checks before letting him go. He passes Cal his crutches. "Why are these always the opposite side of the room to you?"

Cal shrugs. "They annoy me."

"You left them outside _my_ bedroom door last night. I fell over them when I got up for work."

"Ah. Thought I heard a crash."

"Yes, that would have been me as I hit the floor."

Cal smirks. "And a little yelp."

"It's not funny, Caleb."

"I didn't leave them there on purpose to trip you up," Cal clarifies, knowing it's likely his brother is suspicious. "I just got fed up with them half way to my room."

"Well kindly lean them against the wall next time," Ethan says. "Coffee?"

"Please." He follows Ethan to the kitchen and leans against the wall. "Work okay?"

"Food poisoning in a nursing home."

"Nice!"

"Yeah. Robyn claims she was vomited on three times. I think she's exaggerating, but still." Ethan heads to the fridge. "Is it strange I'm hungry even after that?"

"Strange _and_ futile. There's nothing in."

Ethan opens the fridge door as if he doesn't believe him and stares into it glumly. "One egg and a tub of butter. Sorry, Cal, I should have stocked up."

"You've been busy, it's fine."

"I'll drink this coffee then I'll go to the shop. Oh. Black coffee."

"It'll do."

Ethan takes both their mugs and heads back to the lounge. "How's your morning been?"

"Good," Cal says, testing the word. It feels like a long time since he used it and meant it. "I finished Beauchamp's assignment."

"Yeah? Can I have a read?"

Cal hesitates. He thinks he's produced a decent report but he's not sure he's ready to have someone else read it, particularly if it comes with criticism. Then again, Ethan will be gentler with him than Mrs Beauchamp will be when she gives her inevitable feedback. "Okay," he says eventually, "but, look, just pretend you're not a grammar freak while you're reading it. I'm not after corrections."

"Even if-?

"No. Ethan, this is my work, not yours. Get my laptop, I'll load the document."

Cal watches as his brother reads through the assignment. He tries to judge what his brother is thinking but aside from the occasional raised eyebrow, no doubt at poor sentence structure, or a thoughtful nod, hopefully at a well-made point, he gives no cues.

Eventually, Ethan turns to him. "This is really good, you know."

Relief fills Cal's veins but he tries not to show it. "No need to sound surprised."

"I'm not surprised it's good, I just hadn't expected you to get so into it. There are a lot of interesting angles to this. And you said yourself that research isn't your thing."

"Yeah, well, if that's the way my career's heading."

"What, into research?" Ethan frowns. "Why? Mrs Beauchamp said you could come back."

Cal gives a non-committal grunt. He knows what their clinical lead said to him and he also knows that she said it would be once he was walking unaided. He's had to consider what he'll do if that day never materialises.

"Well, it's up to you," Ethan continues. "I'm impressed with this," he nods at the laptop, "and I'm sure you could get into research if that's what you want to do. But only if that's what you want, not because you feel like you have to."

Cal shrugs. He doesn't want to start talking about the future when he was in a positive mood for once. "While you're at the shop pick up some ice cream, will you?" he says.

Ethan raises his eyebrows at the less than subtle change of conversation but doesn't comment on it. "Mint choc chip?" he asks.

"Obviously."

* * *

Ethan checks the time yet again. He's not often a clock-watcher; usually far too busy getting treating patients to worry about when his shift will end. But he's made a promise to Cal and he knows he only has a ten minute margin between the time he should finish and the time he will need to finish to avoid being late.

He still has forty-three minutes to go, meaning there's ample time to see a new patient. His hand lingers on the pile of patient records but he doesn't take one immediately, still considering texting Alicia to ensure she remembers agreeing to come in early to cover the final hour of his shift. His shoulders slump. He knows he can't text her without risking her feeling harassed and she's already doing him a favour.

He takes the top file and scans the triage notes. His patient is a twenty-six year old assault victim but the information is otherwise minimal and he knows it could be anything from minor lacerations to potential internal bleeding. The cubicles are emptier than average but he barely dares to think of the word _quiet_ , too familiar with the curse it can bring. Usually he would work overtime without needing to be asked but today is one of the days, happening with increasing frequency, where he can't afford to be late home.

He greets his patient and their relative with a warm smile that he hopes doesn't betray his relief that his injuries aren't severe. "Hello, Mr Yousef, my name is Doctor Hardy."

"Please," the young man says, in a heavily accented voice. "Nasir."

Ethan gives a brief nod and scans his patient for wounds. First glance suggests mostly facial injuries, a cut forehead, bleeding nose and swollen lip, but from the way Nasir's hand rests against his stomach, he knows to examine there too.

The young lady by his side takes Nasir's hand in hers and looks at Ethan pleadingly. "Doctor, please help."

"Of course. Are you friend or relative?"

"I'm his wife," she says. "Amira."

"Okay, Amira, I'm going to look after your husband." He turns back to his patient. "Nasir, can you tell me where it hurts?"

The lady speaks to Nasir in a foreign tongue and Ethan, eyes on his patient, registers the moment when he understands the question.

Nasir's hand points to his face and his stomach and then speaks to his wife in their own language.

"He says his heart hurts too."

"Right," Ethan says. He frowns. "Um, can you ask him whether he means literally or metaphorically?"

Her face falls. "I don't understand."

"Oh, sorry. His heart. Is he in pain or- or is he sad?"

"His heart is in pain," she repeats, breaking off to listen to her husband. "He says he did nothing wrong. He asks me why did this happen? It makes him sad." She pauses. "Doctor, only his head and his stomach can be healed."

Ethan nods. From Amira's description he assumes there are no injuries to Nasir's chest but he intends to check it anyway, not wanting a language barrier to mean he misses something crucial.

He takes a step closer and reaches out to Nasir. "I need to examine this cut," he says. His patient sits still and he feels confident he's understood enough English, or at least body language, for him to know what he's doing. "Can you tell me what happened?"

After several exchanges between the two of them, Amira translates. "He works in a takeaway food shop. Last night it was dark and he didn't notice at first that he was being followed home by some men. But then they started shouting things at him. He says he didn't understand what they said but he knew it wasn't friendly and so he tried to walk faster. But they ran and they caught him and-" she turns her head away from her husband and tries to blink back the tears. "And they beat him. His head. And- and they kicked him. They said they he shouldn't be in this country. They called him bad things, Doctor. They beat him because of where he is from."

Ethan focuses on the cut. "Thank you for explaining. Please tell Nasir I'm sorry he experienced that." The cut is superficial but he understands that does nothing to soothe the couple's pain. It's not the first time he's seen injuries from a racially motivated attack and it saddens him more every time. "Have you spoken to the police yet?"

"Will that help?"

"What the men did is classed as a hate crime. The police have to take it seriously."

Amira translates and Ethan watches as Nasir looks uncertain.

"He thinks it will cause more trouble," she says.

"Would he be able to give a description? If the men get sent to prison they won't be able to trouble him from there."

She puts the question to him and he replies quickly. "He says three pale skinned men. One old, two young. He thinks they might have been a family."

"That's something for the police to go on," Ethan says. "I would encourage him to report what happened. They shouldn't get away with it."

"All we ask for is peace."

Ethan nods his understanding but continues with his treatment rather than replying. He doesn't know what he can say to help.

Nasir remains sitting still as Ethan treats him but speaks to his wife. She listens but takes a few moments before she translates back to Ethan.

"He says he has learnt to be more careful now. He says he would like you to treat him and then let him go home. He's not going to tell the police."

Ethan opens his mouth to try to persuade him otherwise but Nasir places a hand on his wrist and looks at him beseechingly.

"Thank you," Nasir says in English. His voice is broken but final.

* * *

Cal drains the last of his drink and returns the mug to the table with a satisfied sigh. His hips are still aching but the break has helped. Besides, since he started the intense physio, he's almost got used to the persistent groaning of his muscles as he worked them in places he never had before.

"Okay," Dr Moretti says. "Mo says you're a pro at all the exercises now, so I think it's time to get to the next stage."

Cal looks up, first at Ethan and then across to the doctor. "The next stage?"

She grins at him. He's got to know her well enough over the past few sessions to realise she's not mocking him but that she's the kind of person who can see the funny side of everything. It's the opposite of how he's felt the last few months but it's good to have someone whose perspective is brighter than his.

"Well, I didn't book you a double session so we could sit here drinking coffee," she says.

"Thanks for the advance notice!"

"What do you call weeks of physio?" she laughs. "You've always known the goal."

"I know, but I-" He breaks off, shaking his head slightly. He's left every session so far wondering whether she was about to announce that next time they'll start him walking, but now that they're there, it suddenly feels too soon. His stomach flutters. The physio has gone well so far, but this feels the true test of whether he has potential to walk again.

"Cal, I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't think you were ready," she says, no hints of humour left in her voice. "Mo agrees. You've got us both here supporting you."

"And you've got me," Ethan says.

Cal pauses. He looks at their earnest faces and swallows a lump in his throat. He wants to do this but only if it's successful. He's not sure he's got enough resilience to accept a setback. "Fine," he says. "Wouldn't want to incite further caffeine addition."

Doctor Moretti smiles. "Great. Sit tight, I'll get the prosthesis and try to drag that part-timer back from his cigarette break!"

Cal senses Ethan scoot closer as she disappears but still jumps as his brother's hand clamps onto his shoulder.

"You're doing really well, you know," he says.

"Let's see if you're still saying that afterwards."

"I will be, however it goes."

Cal gives a tight lipped nod. "Thanks for coming with me again. Mrs Beauchamp's not giving you a hard time about all your time off, is she?"

"She's being surprisingly flexible," Ethan replies. "Although it's actually, um, Alicia I have to thank for today, she agreed to come in a few hours early so I could leave."

"Trying to get in the good books, is she?"

"Whose, Mrs Beauchamp's, or-" Ethan's cheeks redden, "um, mine?"

"I meant Beauchamp's after the sudden resignation before," Cal replies, but his eyes narrow at the colour of his brother's face. "Nibbles, do you like her? Alicia, I mean."

"No!"

"What, you don't like her?"

"I'm neutral," Ethan claims. "She's a colleague. She's very pleasant but I… I-"

Despite his nerves about the prosthetic, Cal chuckles. "She's fit, isn't she?"

"I have no idea whether she likes to exercise."

"Ethan, come on, you're not that square."

Ethan blushes again and readjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "My judgement of her has nothing to do with her attractiveness. And neither should yours!"

"So you think she _is_ attractive?"

"Caleb."

Cal gives an exaggerated sigh. He's not really bothered his brother is telling him off for his crudeness; it's a welcome distraction from what's happening next. "Look," he says, "I'm only basing it on her looks because I barely know her. Not like you, I mean. You seem to know her particularly well."

"We've worked closely on a couple of cases," Ethan says. "She's a good doctor."

"Ah, a compliment. So you _do_ like her."

Ethan rolls his eyes but doesn't retort immediately and Cal wonders if he's on the verge of getting an admission. But instead, Ethan nods towards Doctor Moretti and Mo returning and gives a smug smile that clearly says the conversation is over.

His eyes fall to the prosthesis in the doctor's hands. She's carrying it carefully but with such a nonchalance that it would reveal her profession if he didn't know already. She continues past him and it's left to Mo to wheel him over to the equipment. He fights the urge, as he always does, to remind them he's more than proficient on crutches, as he knows they prefer him to save his energy for the actual physio rather than just getting around the room.

"We didn't practice with the prosthesis the last session," the doctor says. "How well can you remember how to put it on?"

"Perfectly," Cal says but when he takes it from her his mind goes blank and he has to wait for her gentle prompt.

Even though he's worn it a few times now, it still feels strange and he longs for the day it feels as much a part of him as his other leg. Once he's confident it's secure, he stares up expectantly at the two of them. They switch places and it's Doctor Moretti who wheels him closer to the parallel bars.

"Okay, let's start the same as normal," Mo says. "Rest your weight on your right leg as you get up and remember to keep hold of the bars."

Cal does as he's asked and is surprised by how natural it feels to gradually spread his weight evenly across both legs. They start with a few of the stretches that he's become so familiar with he barely need Mo's instructions. Since he started making an effort, he can notice the difference. Already, he can stretch much further, with much less of a strain on his hamstring. He thinks he moves faster now, although it's possible it's just because it takes less concentration.

Mo stops him briefly to reposition his leg but apart from that he manages with little correction.

"Now, left foot forwards and flat on the floor, just the same as you've been doing." Mo waits until he's moved then crouches down to hold the foot in place. "Now swing your right foot forwards to meet it. Don't worry if you kick me, I've had worse."

Cal hesitates but gathers his courage and takes the step. He's practised weight bearing on his prosthetic leg a few times but he's still amazed when it doesn't collapse from underneath him.

"Nice, so left foot again." Mo scoots backwards. "And right." He stands up and grins at Cal. "Good job, man. On your own now. Grip the bars as much as you need to. Left, then right, then feet together."

Cal moves his hands further along the bars in anticipation and grips the metal tightly. His arms and legs work in partnership to propel him forwards, somehow it's easier to move his prosthetic leg than his own and he manages two steps then comes to a wobbly halt.

"Ethan!" he blurts out.

"You're doing great."

He slides his hands further along the poles and takes another shaky step. "Do I look like an idiot?"

"No, you look amazing."

Cal's not convinced his brother's being honest, but it's comforting anyway to hear the pride in his voice. He continues to walk forwards, not wanting to stop for fear that he won't be able to start again but only manages another few steps before he reaches the end of the parallel bars. He looks apprehensively to Mo, awaiting instruction.

"Turn around," Mo says. "Keep going."

Cal twists his body and navigates his new leg around the anchor of his old. He waits for a nod of approval from Mo and then continues to walk shakily between the bars. Now that he's changed direction, he can see Ethan easier. They exchange a look and the grin on Ethan's face makes his chest swell. He can't help but smile back as he takes his next few steps. He still moves slowly but with additional confidence now that he's sure the prosthetic leg can support his weight.

"Okay, that's good, Cal, you're walking," Doctor Moretti says. "Does your leg feel okay in the socket?"

"Uh, how is it meant to feel?"

"Secure. Comfortable."

"It's tight but it doesn't hurt." He pauses to check her face. "That's okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay. I'll check your leg afterwards but if you're alright to continue then please do so."

Cal reaches the beginning of the bars again and turns to retrace.

"Just to the middle," Mo says, "then we'll stop and repeat your usual exercises. You're doing really well strength wise but you've lost your precision a little since we started."

Cal lets Mo readjust the angle of his foot and then completes the familiar stretches, concentrating on the positioning of his leg. Once he's given permission, he continues to walk between the parallel bars, gradually gaining a momentum. It's not easy but the relief that he's actually doing it encourages to keep going long after he first starts getting tired.

"Cal," Doctor Moretti calls. "Once you're back at the start stay where you are and we'll take a short break."

By the time he reaches the end his limbs are trembling from the effort and he's glad when Mo helps lower him back into the wheelchair.

"More coffee?" he asks the doctor, with a wink, as she steers him away from the equipment.

"Ha, I'm not sure I want you on a caffeine high. If that was anything to go by, you'd be up running around!" She pauses. "That was really good, Cal."

He looks up, surprised. "Thanks."

"Well, credit where it's due. I'm no physio but even I can tell you've been working on strengthening your muscles." She drags a chair in front of him and takes a seat. "Can you remove the prosthesis please so I can check your leg?"

He lets her examine him but watches intently as she does so. Even though he cannot see any redness or blisters, he still holds his breath as he waits for her to declare his leg fine.

"Yeah, no problems there," she says. "Of course, it's important to continue checking your leg at regular intervals even once you're used to the prosthesis. If there are any signs you aren't, I won't be happy."

Cal nods instinctively, but then pauses and replays what she said. "So- can I..?"

She gives a soft smile. "Once you've had a break I'd like to get you walking using your crutches rather than the bars. But, if all goes well, I'm satisfied you can take it home with you."

Cal's breath catches in his throat. "Yeah?"

"As long as you promise to care for your leg properly and report to me immediately if there's any problems. It's also important that you still use the compression bandage overnight, okay? And, for now, every two to three hours I want you remove the leg and have a break from it for about thirty minutes."

Cal nods eagerly. He throws a glance in Ethan's direction. His brother's smile is as wide as his.


	13. Chapter 13

Not sure how I've managed over 5000 words on essentially a filler part! I won't go on about my own feelings for this chapter as I don't want to put anyone off reading it, but lets just say I hope you guys like it more than I do! I'd really appreciate it if you can spare the time to leave a review.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Thank you so much, I'm pleased you liked it. To be honest, I've been struggling with the medical stuff, so I'm relieved to have a chapter away from it all with this one. It's kind of you to say I do it justice though. I'm not much of a fan of Ethan and Alicia either but it makes a nice change to write some lighter stuff and I wanted to include her in the plot as she was a big part of the brother's storylines for that series. Really appreciate your review and hope you enjoy the update.

* * *

 **13.**

* * *

Ethan walks into the staff room and collapses onto the sofa. His stethoscope slips from his neck and lands on the floor but he it seems pointless wasting his energy picking it up now his shift has finally ended.

"What did the police want?"

Ethan jumps. He hadn't even noticed Alicia enter the room. "Taking a statement from my patient," he says, sadly. "He was attacked for holding hands with another man."

Alicia retrieves his stethoscope from the floor and takes the seat beside him. She pauses but then turns to look at him with pain in her eyes. "We're seeing so many assault victims at the moment," she says.

Ethan nods. His head feels heavy.

"It makes me so mad," Alicia says. "People hurting others because of their ethnicity or sexuality or whatever else some sick individual decided not to like. It's not right, Ethan!"

"I know. The police think it's likely it's the same gang who are conducting the majority of these assaults."

"Well they need to be stopped!"

"Of course, but with so few people willing to report them…"

She sighs. "People are scared."

Ethan thinks of Nasir, his patient from a few weeks ago who'd been worried making a statement to the police would cause more trouble. He just wishes he had enough assurance to convince his patients otherwise.

"Sorry," he says. "You've not even started your shift yet. I shouldn't be bringing you down."

"Don't apologise, it just shows that you care." Alicia takes his hand and squeezes it. "You're a good doctor, Ethan."

He looks at her properly now and can see the honesty in her eyes. His breath hitches. He still thinks of their nearly moment in the cave but he's sure he's missed his chance now. Weeks later and he still hasn't taken her up on the offer of a drink.

She smiles at him and in that moment Ethan realises their hands are still clasped. His cheeks burn and he pulls his hand away from hers before she can notice his palms have turned sweaty.

"Thank you," he says. "That means a lot to me. A ray of positivity in a day where there's otherwise been none."

"I'm not sure if that's more poetic or morose."

Despite himself, he manages a smile. "It's been a tough day, that's all."

Her forehead creases with concern. "Just work though, right? It's not Cal?"

"Oh, no, thank goodness. He's okay."

"What you need is a Charlie Fairhead pep talk," she says. "Or, failing that, a drink."

"Or both," he says, with a nervous chuckle.

"Well count me in!"

There's a few beats of awkward silence where Ethan's sure they're both thinking the same thing. He pushes his glasses back up his nose. "We never did go for that drink, did we-?"

"Oh," Alicia says. "No, but you're, you know, busy-"

"-except, now it's really _me_ who should be buying _you_ one. To say sorry for being so unavailable the last few months."

"-and anyway Louise is always up for a glass of red so it's not like I missed out."

"How does tonight sound?"

Alicia stares at him blankly. "Tonight?"

"Unless you already have plans, of course. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

"No, no tonight works for me."

"It does?" He berates himself for a tone of surprise slip into his voice. "Oh. Oh, that's, um, excellent."

He smiles but Alicia's expression remains neutral and he can feel his own face drop as he realises she might not want to drink with him anymore. He fiddles with the end of his stethoscope and looks at her out of the corner of his eye.

"But, um, only if you want to," he says.

"I want to."

"Sure?"

"Yes, I want to," she repeats. "I just thought you had to be home with Cal, that's all. I don't want to deprive him of you."

"He's managing a bit better now. But anyway, Charlie is visiting tonight him so I'm all yours."

* * *

Cal knows it's Charlie who rang the bell because, with the length of time it's taking him to get to the door, most people would have rung again in impatience. He's not sure whether Ethan's warned the nurse he's still slow on his prosthetic leg but Charlie's astute enough to realise already. He releases the door and waits patiently for Charlie to make it up the stairs to the flat.

"Wow, look at you!" Charlie says by way of greeting.

From anyone else it would have sounded patronising but he takes the comment from Charlie with a smile. "Early days still, Charlie, but thanks." He hobbles to the side so that the nurse can enter and lets Charlie lead the way to the lounge. "Drink?"

"Cup of tea would be lovely."

Cal switches the kettle on and goes on a hunt for teabags. He'd discovered, while getting to know Emilie, that she was a coffee drinker long after doctors had advised her it was detrimental to her condition. His adoptive parents had hated the drink but both he and Ethan were addicted. Things had fitted into place when he realised they had inherited the taste. But thankfully, his brother is organised enough to keep a few visitor's teabags in the cupboard where the coffee jar should live, so Cal is able to prepare both him and Charlie their desired beverage.

"Uh, sorry, can you help me carry?" Cal calls.

Charlie appears almost immediately.

"I can stand without crutches," Cal explains, "but walking's a bit hit and miss. My knee buckled yesterday and I accidentally chucked the water I was carrying over Ethan. Probably shouldn't try with hot drinks."

Charlie chuckles. "How did Ethan take that?"

"He wasn't happy. Accused me of running before I can walk or some other inappropriately apt cliché."

"But you two _are_ getting on?" Charlie says as he places their drinks on the coffee table. "It worries me when you fall out."

"Yeah. Probably the best we ever have." Cal lowers himself onto the sofa, still struggling slightly to bend his knee. "I wouldn't have coped without him, Charlie."

"He's a good lad. You both are."

Cal nods, thoughtfully. "How is he at work, Charlie? Is he… okay?"

"He's run off his feet. But then we all are."

"I mean, is he, you know, coping? After everything that's happened with me and- and Emilie-" He pauses. "Ethan internalises a lot. Usually _I_ can still tell when he's upset, but now, I don't know, it's like he's trying to be the brave one or something because I fell apart a bit. Okay, a lot, but-"

"He's the same Ethan he's always been, Cal. Bad jokes, amazing diagnoses, kind to the patients."

"Yeah, but-"

"Cal, I _know_." Charlie says. "He told me."

Cal's head shoots up to stare at the nurse. His chest thumps. He hadn't thought Ethan had told anyone about his condition other than Lily, of all people, and besides, Charlie was more his confidant than his brother's. He narrows his eyes, trying to recall whether there are any other secrets that Charlie might be referring to.

"A-about?" he stutters.

"About the gene," Charlie confirms.

Cal sags. His eyes prickle. He hated the reminder of what his brother had in his future but he feels almost relieved that there's someone he can talk to about it.

"Cal, I'm sorry. It wasn't the news you'd hoped for."

"Yeah, well, it was never going to happen, was it? Only 25 percent chance we'd both be clear and Ethan and I weren't born lucky."

"He seems to be holding it together," Charlie says. "He told me dry-eyed, calm, more worried about you."

"But that's what I mean," Cal snaps. "I was meant to be looking after him but then I stupidly had to go and get my leg amputated"

"That was no more your fault than Ethan's for getting the gene."

Cal shrugs. "If I'd coped better…"

"I think you've coped well."

"Charlie, seriously."

"I do!" Charlie holds his hands up in protest. "You've come a long way since last time I saw you."

"That was only a few days after. It doesn't count." Cal shakes his head. "It's all down to Ethan, anyway. He wouldn't let me give up. And I have a good prosthetist and physio-"

"Take some credit, son! You're not usually shy of that."

Cal nods to appease Charlie but he's not convinced. He'll allow himself some credit when he's fit again.

"You'll keep an eye on him for me though, yeah? Ethan."

"You have my word," Charlie says. He chuckles slightly. "I wonder how he's getting on with Alicia."

"Alicia?" Cal sits up straighter, his worries momentarily forgotten. "What do you mean?"

Charlie rubs the back of his head. "Ah, I assumed you knew."

"He said he was going out with work."

"I suppose _technically_ he is."

"They're on a date or something?"

"You didn't hear it from me," Charlie says. "They've gone for a drink. That's all I know."

"Ethan's such a bad liar!" Cal says, triumphantly. "I knew he liked her!" He nudges the nurse with his elbow. "Charlie Fairhead, I never had you down as a gossip."

"You know what the E.D. is like. Nothing remains a secret for long."

"Ethan on a date." He gives a small huff of laughter. "Now I think something really might be wrong!"

"Play nice," Charlie warns. "Remember you were singing his praises a minute ago."

Cal ignores him in favour of tapping a quick text to his brother: _You dark horse. I want all the sordid details,_ and then slumps back onto the sofa. "Ethan on a date," he repeats. He nods. "Yeah, I'm pleased for him."

"There seems to be lots of budding relationships in the E.D. these days," Charlie says.

"Seriously? I bet Max months ago a tenner he couldn't get with that blonde nurse. Don't tell me I've lost."

"I don't know about Max," Charlie says. "I meant me."

"You?" Cal feels a smile creep onto his face. "Okay, Charlie, spill."

The nurse looks bashful for a moment but then lifts his head and grins. "Oh, alright then," he says. "If you insist. Did you meet my friend, Duffy? She did a bit of agency work with us earlier this year."

"Wait, was she the one who was there when you-?"

"When I had my heart attack, yes."

"Ah, I know who you mean. Yeah, she had the hots for you."

"The hots! At our age?" He shakes his head. "We're old friends, Cal; we have a lot of history and a strong bond. But yes, old lovers too."

Cal pulls a disgusted face. "Nice."

"We finally realised what's important in life. There's no point harbouring the pain of years gone by. There's a lot to be said for having someone by your side, no matter what. A companion."

Cal nods. He doesn't think he would have understood Charlie's sentence this time last year. But so much has happened since then, with Matilda, Emilie and both his and Ethan's health scares. He knows now that he needs to focus on the strong relationships in his life, not just meaningless flings.

He rests his hand on the older man's arm. "You deserve some happiness, Charlie."

"I'll let you into a secret," Charlie says. "I proposed."

"Tell me she said yes or I have some serious persuading to do."

"She said yes."

"Well, congratulations!"

"Thank you, Cal. We've not told many people yet but I wanted you to hear it from me. We'll announce it at work soon and then, maybe, some drinks in the pub to celebrate." He pauses. "You will come?"

Cal's mouth opens to say yes but the words catch in his throat. "I-" He closes his mouth and shrugs helplessly.

"I'd like you to be there," Charlie says gently.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to see people yet."

"Why that?"

Cal picks a speck of dirt from beneath his fingernail. "Dunno. It'll be different. _I'm different_. Iain, Max, that lot. They might not want to know now that I can't do the same stuff as them."

"Of course they will. Everyone misses you. It would do you good to get out and see that for yourself."

Cal grunts.

"Tell you what," Charlie says, "I'll let you know the date once we've set one and then you can decide."

* * *

Ethan didn't think he was late but by the time he gets to the pub, Alicia's already a third of her way through a bottle of wine. He takes the seat opposite her and accepts the glass she shoves in his direction.

"Thought I was buying," he says.

"Hard shift," she says. "Couldn't wait, I'm sorry. You can get the next one."

He wonders if she means next bottle and nervously wipes his hands on his trousers. He doesn't think he can stomach the equivalent of a bottle of wine. "Are you okay?" he asks instead.

She straightens. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just some idiots in the E.D. giving me a headache." She rubs at her forehead as if to prove it. "I don't get it, Ethan. I was trying to help someone and all the family could do was shout at me. Could they not see that's detrimental to the treatment?"

"Was it out of fear?"

"I don't know, it was nothing life threatening." She takes a large gulp of wine. "I think they just wanted someone older, someone male, someone who spoke the Queen's English. Not me, anyway."

"Well, I'm certain you gave them at least as good treatment as someone who is all three of those things."

"Aye, well, I fixed her up."

"Then you did a good job."

Alicia takes another sip of wine. "You know we're being watched?"

Ethan follows her gaze to see Max and Jez, huddled like mischievous schoolboys, laughing but their eyes clearly on them. "Perhaps we should have chosen somewhere further afield."

"Why? We're just having a drink, aren't we? Nothing secret about that."

"Yes, right," Ethan says. He swills the wine in his glass and takes a delicate sip. He's not a big wine drinker and this one is particularly dry.

They fall into awkward silence. Alicia's fingers drum on the table. Ethan inspects the licence agreement on the wall they're next to. Someone yawns and he can't tell if it's Alicia or the lady behind her.

"Do you fancy tequila?" Alicia asks.

Ethan doesn't, but he's conscious she does and that he still owes her a drink anyway, so jumps to his feet as if it's the best idea he's heard all week.

At the bar, he checks his phone and discovers a single message from Cal. The text is candid, revealing his brother has somehow heard _who_ he is at the pub with, and is no doubt a precursor of the teasing interrogation he's going to get when he arrives home. But still, Ethan breathes a sigh of relief there's no crises. Even though his brother with is Charlie, Ethan knows late at night, as well as first thing in the morning, is when Cal is most likely to let his frustrations get the better of him.

He returns to the table with a shot glass in either hand, a slice of lemon balanced perilously on top.

"Have you got the salt?"

"Salt? Um, no, I'll just-"

"Don't worry about it," she says. "Just sit down." She angles her chair to the side. "That's better, your head's blocking Jez out now. He thinks he's funny."

"What was he doing?" Ethan asks, alarmed.

"I won't repeat the gesture." She grimaces, picking up her shot. "Well then, cheers!"

Ethan mirrors her. They chink their glasses together and then he tips the spirit into his mouth. It burns on the way down and he bites into the bitter lemon, tying desperately not to splutter. He succeeds but he's sure there are tears in his eyes.

Alicia giggles at his expression. "Wow."

"Um, yeah," he concedes. "Tequila and me don't really mix."

"Whoops, sorry," she says. "I can get you another pint if you want."

"What, of tequila?"

She laughs. "Or… there's a bottle of red back at my house?"

He struggles to keep his expression neutral. He knows there are plenty of people for whom such an invitation would be a regular occurrence, but he'd not even considered that a drink may lead to something else. But there's always the possibility she truly does just mean a glass of wine and he'd hate to sound presumption.

He wishes he could ask her of her intentions but he's sure that would be most gentlemanly. He considers taking a toilet break so he can make a hasty phone call to Cal but he's not sure he can stand the embarrassment. Besides, he knows what his brother would suggest. And, while he's not completely adverse to the idea, he's sure it's more appropriate to wait for a few more dates and an official status.

His lack of response doesn't seem to her perturbed Alicia, for she knocks back the rest of her wine and is already on her feet, shrugging back into her leather jacket, while he tries to gulps down the rest of his own drink.

Winter is approaching and the night air is cold. Alicia shivers and Ethan considers wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Instead, he shoves his cold fingers into his coat pockets, not brave enough, or inebriated enough, for such a bold move.

"It's not far," Alicia says. "Better to walk than spend a fortune on a taxi."

"Makes sense," Ethan replies, although he would have happily paid for a taxi if she'd wanted him to. He still feels guilty that she bought a whole bottle of wine in comparison to the two tequilas his money went on.

"So, Charlie's gone to visit Cal, has he?" Alicia says. "Max says he's not had any response when he's tried to get in touch with him."

Ethan nods. He's not surprised to hear his brother has been ignoring messages but he doesn't know how to explain the reasons why to Alicia. "He's, um, not felt like socialising," he manages. "Most people see Cal as this confident, outgoing person but half of that is bravado. I think he's scared people's opinions will change if he shows them he's vulnerable."

"Maybe their opinions would change for the better?"

"He doesn't see it like that."

"Yeah, but he's had a serious injury. No-one's going to think badly of him for being shaken up."

"Well, you and I know that," Ethan says. He shrugs. "Anyway, aside from the odd low mood, he's doing a bit better now. He agreed for Charlie to visit and he actually listens to him, so we'll see."

"It's funny, isn't it, how everyone goes to Charlie's for advice."

"I suppose it is. I think Cal sees him as a kind of father figure."

"What about your own dad?" Alicia asks.

Ethan's hesitation is masked by Alicia grabbing his arm to prevent him from walking in the wrong direction. Her hand slides towards his and he lets their fingers lock together.

"You know Cal and I were adopted?" he asks.

"No?" A look of horror flits across her face. "Sorry, is it sensitive?"

"No, no, it's fine," Ethan says. It's a complete lie; nothing's _fine_ about it, but he doesn't mind telling her. "We found out last year."

"You had no idea?"

He shakes his head. "Cal tried to hide it from me at first. It's a long story. There were a lot of arguments, as you can probably imagine." He gives an embarrassed smile, knowing the whole workforce are aware of their turbulent relationship. "But, um, it turned out our parents aren't our parents."

"That's awful," she says. "That must have been a nightmare to get your head around."

"Yes," he says. As usual when he thinks about it, it feels like he's had a blow to the stomach. He gulps, trying to swallow back the coinciding memories that are threatening to surface.

"So, your real parents, then," she asks. "Have you found them?"

"Our- our mum."

"And was it okay?"

"She was sick," he manages. "She died."

Alicia's grip on his hand tightens. "Oh, Ethan, I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. It's not that her sympathy is unwarranted; it _was_ hard saying goodbye to another mum only a few years after his first, but Emilie's death itself was less gut-wrenchingly painful than everything else that came with it.

He turns to Alicia and at the moment her lips part, he shakes his head again. He knows what the next question would have been and if he'd answered honestly, he may as well be admitting he has the gene. Despite his crush, he barely knows Alicia. It wouldn't be fair to burden her with knowledge of his condition.

Her face falls. "Sorry," she says. "I should know better than to poke my nose in to other people's business."

"You weren't," Ethan says. "I wouldn't have told you if I minded you knowing."

"I'm glad you feel you can confide in me."

Ethan gives a polite smile but guilt rumbles in stomach. Her statement is so far from the truth, both by way of him confiding and her being glad upon hearing what he has to say.

He looks at her out of the corner of her eye. He imagines her beautiful face marred by that same look of horror and pity that he'd seen on Lily's and Charlie's and, worst of all, Cal's. He doesn't want that for Alicia. She deserves better than a man with no future. Then again, doesn't _he_ deserve better too?

Of course, there's a chance Alicia doesn't like him anyway. But he knows if Alicia decides she doesn't like him because he's boring or because he keeps breaking his glasses or misquoting old Sci-Fi dramas he can handle it. But the thought of being rejected because of a degenerative disease he can do nothing about is something that makes his heart pound so hard he thinks he's going to be sick.

He looks away from her but can't bring himself to release her hand just yet. He knows it's selfish. But the past year has been the worst of his life thanks to Emilie and Huntington's Disease and Cal's accident, and if there's ever been a time to allow selfishness, now is it. Besides, he's not asking for much. Just a few hours of happiness with a girl he cannot have.

And if, in the rarest of cases they do progress their relationship, then he'll re-evaluate. He nods decisively. Yes. He _will_ tell her. But only if he has to. Not now. Not today.

"Anyway, this is it," Alicia announces, ending his train of thought. She grounds to a halt and fumbles with her door key. "Welcome to my humble abode!"

The door clatters as Alicia swings it open and Ethan wonders whether her carelessness is a consequence of all the drinks at the pub. He follows her into the building. She kicks off her shoes and so he carefully unties his laces and lines his brogues by the wall in case outdoor footwear is not allowed on the carpet. He's tried to implement that rule himself but Cal either always forgets or deliberately ignores him. He helps Alicia out of her jacket and hangs it on the peg on the wall, adding his own there as an afterthought.

"Always the gentleman," she says.

"I do try," he admits and then immediately regrets it, wondering if he should have pretended he was effortlessly charming instead.

Alicia grins at him and leads him through to the lounge. "Make yourself at home. I'll grab the bottle."

He perches on the edge of the sofa. The house reminds him of one of the rare occasions he'd visited Cal at University and he'd shared a house with several other medical students. It's messier than he had expected and he supposes he was probably wrong about the need to remove his shoes. He hopes she hadn't thought him to be undressing prematurely.

"Sorry about the mess," she calls, as if she'd read his mind. "It's what you get for living with two boys."

"Oh, you should try living with Cal," he replies.

"I keep finding dirty boxers all over the place." She returns with a glass in each hand and the bottle of wine tucked under her arm. "Minging. Grab the bottle will you?"

He takes it from her. "Shall I pour?"

"Yes please. To the top though, not those half empty measures they give you in fancy restaurants." She pulls a face. "I always feel ripped off."

"I know," he says, nervously, though in truth he doesn't. A pint is a pint wherever you go.

"It's a nice red," she says. "France, I think."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah."

She takes a long sip so he does the same.

"Very, um, woody."

"Tastes like juice to me," she admits.

He bursts out laughing. She joins in and for a few minutes, Ethan feels like he's with an old friend, someone he's so comfortable that he doesn't have to consider what he does or says, but then their laughter fades and they're left nervously face to face. Ethan's eyes flicker to hers and then away again. He can't look at her for too long because then he remembers how pretty she is and his nerves return. He takes a large swig of the wine to distract himself but it still doesn't taste like juice to him. The silence is growing and with it is the awkwardness. He clears his throat, jiggles his leg and hopes one of them finds something to say soon.

"So," she says, "seeing as we're getting to know each other. Let's do some truths."

"Truths?"

"Yes, you know, ask any question but the other has to answer completely honestly."

Ethan hesitates. "Um, do you get a free pass?"

"Something you're trying to hide?" she jokes.

"No, but…"

"Okay," she says. "If there's something you really don't want to answer, that's fine, but you have to- to-" her eyes search the room. "I know: Max's whisky. You have to do a shot."

Ethan winces. He feels like he's walked into Cal's typical night out. "Right, so-"

"So, me first." She folds her legs onto the sofa and sits cross-legged. "Erm, biggest fear?"

"Heights," he answers instantly, relieved the question was nothing worse. "Yours?"

"You know that already. Claustrophobic. But you have to think of your own questions, not just copy mine."

"Okay then, um, most embarrassing moment?"

"I tripped up during graduation."

He chuckles. "That's not so bad."

"No, wait." She covers her face with her hands. "As I was on my way down, I reached out to grab something. You know, instinctively. Anyway, I somehow caught hold of the professor who was giving out the certificates and ended up pulling his trousers down with me." She peeps out from behind her hands to reveal flushed cheeks. "It was awful!"

"Arguably worse for him."

"Yeah, but he was proper fit for an older guy. Everyone thought I did it on purpose!"

Ethan laughs but he can't help but wonder whether that is Alicia's type. "Okay, I'll allow it, that is embarrassing."

She gets up and fetches the bottle of whisky. "I know I answered, but I still need some." She swigs from the bottle. "Don't tell Max!"

"I won't."

"Want some?"

"Um, I'll save it for the forfeits."

"In that case, I'll go deeper. Who was your first time with?"

"First time-?"

"Yeah," she nods. "First time you had sex."

Ethan feels his cheeks heating up. He considers reaching for the whisky but he reminds himself that all he needs to do is give a name and a few innocent details and there's no reason to be embarrassed about that.

He looks away from Alicia so he can forget _who_ he's having the conversation with, and takes a delicate sip of his wine. "Lucy Broadbent," he says.

"And _who_ is Lucy Broadbent?"

"I was at med school with her. We just passed our finals and, um, celebrated."

"Finals? So you were in your last year of uni when you-?"

"Hey," he said, "I think it's my turn to ask the question."

"Sorry! Go on."

He knows he should ask her an equally personal question to even the score but he can't bring himself to be so rude. "Greatest desire?"

"What, in life? That's a big question, Ethan."

"Okay, so not in life then, but now."

"Now?" She takes another swig from the whiskey bottle, wine glass now empty. "That's easy. I want to dance."

He laughs. "Dance?"

"Yeah! Come on!" She climbs up from the sofa and holds her hand out to him.

"Oh, no, I don't dance."

"I'll ask you another question about Lucy Broadbent," she teases.

He flushes but drains the last of his wine and takes her hand. "Well, maybe this is preferable."

"It is," she insists. She drags him over to the radio and turns the music up. "I love this song."

It blares an old pop song that Ethan recognises but couldn't identify. "Me too," he lies.

Alicia dances like a child, all limbs; clumsy from the wine. It's completely different to how he's seen her before on the small dancefloor in the pub and he relishes it. This is _her_ rather than her public persona. It's a show just for him. He mimics as best as he can but he's still self-conscious, even after the alcohol, and he imagines he looks a fool.

The song moves into a faster one and Alicia's enthusiastic moves result in her tripping into him. He steadies her. She hiccups and thanks him by wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You're always so nice," she says. "You're always helping me." She hiccups again and giggles as she holds her hand to her mouth. "Hey, remember when we were trapped in the cave?"

He smiles at her fondly. "Well, we weren't trapped."

"Oh, we were! We were trapped. And you saved me."

He considers denying it again but her face is so close to his he can see the adoration in her eyes. "Okay. I saved you."

"You are one of the good guys, you know that?"

"Thank you," he says.

He's not sure if that's the usual kind of compliment a girl would give someone before they kiss them, but he accepts it. He's always tried to be a good guy and it's nice to have it acknowledged. Besides, she's so close now that he can smell the whisky on her breath and he surprises himself by wanting to taste it.

He sees her eyes flicker to his lips. He does the same. She leans closer. He can almost feel her lips on his.

Bu then she jolts to the side and he barely manages to keep her upright. There's a retching noise and a splatter and a strong smell emanating from the floor.

Alicia groans.

Ethan sighs. She's thrown up on his shoes.


	14. Chapter 14

Hey all. Sorry the last few chapters haven't been my best, I'm hopeful this one is a bit less all over the place! I do feel uncomfortable asking outright, but I'd really appreciate if you can leave a review if you are still enjoying this, you don't have to write much, it just helps me to know whether it's worth continuing and I really hope it is as I still have much more planned :)

 **panic-at-casualty:** Thank you so much, your reviews always make me smile! Yeah, I think after Ethan (but, like, wayyy after) Charlie probably knows Cal best so I like it when he's there to listen and advice. I find the stuff with Alicia far harder to write than brother scenes so I'm glad it wasn't too bad! It was never going to be straightforward, you're right, but where's the fun in that haha. Hope you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

 **14.**

* * *

By the time Max and Jez have returned and Ethan deems it safe to leave, it's nearing midnight. He walks home, grateful for the freshness of the night air. Across the road a group of drunk students are only just heading into town, two of the girls struggling to stay upright in their high heels. He wonders how many of their nights will end the same way as Alicia's.

Ethan had helped her into bed, poured her a large glass of water and sacrificed a bucket he'd found in the cupboard under the stairs for her to throw up into. He'd rolled her into the recovery position and sat on the floor by her bedside as she'd drifted into a restless sleep. It was far from the night he'd hoped for.

He reaches their flat sooner than expected, his mind having been preoccupied with the evening's events. He creeps through the front door, hoping his late arrival won't wake Cal. It turns out he needn't have bothered trying to be quiet. His brother is wide awake and staring at him suspiciously from the sofa.

"Ah," Cal says. "Was beginning to think you weren't coming home tonight."

Ethan toes his shoes off. He'd wiped them down but he's far from confident all traces of vomit have gone. They'll need a deep clean tomorrow.

"Sorry. I should have text."

"No, it's fine!" Cal winks at him. "Had fun with Alicia, did we?"

Ethan walks past him to head to the kitchen. The mix of alcohol is beginning to make him feel worse for wear, although he suspects dealing with a sick and floppy Alicia hadn't done much to help that. He pours himself a glass of water and downs half of it in one go. He refills the glass to the top and returns to the lounge.

"Well?" Cal asks.

"Well, what?"

"Well how was your date?"

Ethan shakes his head. "I don't know what you've heard, Caleb, but it wasn't a date."

"You and Alicia having drinks together, just the two of you. That's what I heard. Certainly sounds like a date."

"Well, you're mistaken." He tries to shift Cal so that there's room for both of them on the sofa, but as he does so he topples over and lands clumsily on the seat, only barely missing his brother.

"Nibbles, are you drunk?"

"No!"

"You are! And-" Cal leans closer to him and takes a cautious sniff. He draws back, nose wrinkled. "-urgh. You stink."

Ethan sags. He'd been afraid of that. "Sorry, do I?"

"Yeah, vomit."

"It's not mine."

"Alicia's?"

Ethan confirms it with a nod.

"She had to drink that much to put up with being on a date with you?"

"It wasn't a date," Ethan insists. "And _no!_ I was perfectly adequate company, thank you. She'd had a hard shift, that's all. Difficult patient relatives."

He wonders if he protested too vociferously because Cal, unusually, has the grace to look guilty.

"You know I was joking, right?" he says.

"I know you were trying to," Ethan replies. "You weren't funny. As usual." He takes a big gulp of water and spills a little down his chin.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Only, I think, perhaps, I am a little drunk, after all. And I should probably get myself to bed before, you know, I re-enact the scene with Alicia and the vomit and my shoe."

"Keep drinking the water. Do you need a bucket?"

Ethan shakes his head but keeps his lips tightly together.

"I miss being drunk," Cal says.

Ethan's still not ready to speak but he treats his brother to a look of incredulity.

"Okay, maybe not _this_ stage of being drunk," Cal replies, having correctly deciphered the expression. "But still." He huffs. "Bed, yeah? How much did you even have?"

Ethan shrugs. He can remember what he drank but not how many glasses it equated to, for his wine glass was topped up any time he was in danger of it being any less than half full. "We mixed," he manages to say by way of explanation.

"Dangerous."

"Yeah. Clearly." Ethan staggers to his feet. "Plus tequila."

"What, you?"

"Alicia wanted us to."

"Yeah, but you don't do shots just because _I_ want us to." Cal trails after him towards their rooms. "You were trying to impress your date."

"It wasn't a date, Caleb."

"Why are you so reluctant to admit it?"

Ethan pauses by his bedroom door and turns to look at his brother. Cal's face is a little soft around the edges but Ethan can still tell he's smirking. "Listen," he says, trying his hardest not to slur. "Alicia and I wouldn't work."

"Says who?"

"Me. Both of us! We're just… not, um, compatible."

Cal's shoulders square as he shifts his weight onto his crutches. "Look, okay, if you say it wasn't a date, it wasn't a date."

"It wasn't a date."

"Right then." Cal nods towards his bedroom. "Are you calling it a night or what? Only, I'm pretty tired now too."

"Yeah. Sorry, I didn't ask, have you had a good catch up with Charlie?"

"It was alright," he says, nonchalantly. "I know something you don't know."

"About Charlie?"

"Yep." Cal gives him a smug smile and disappears into his bedroom. "Night, Nibbles. Enjoy the hangover."

Ethan shakes his head and stumbles into his own room. Everything spins.

* * *

When Cal had told Ethan not to bother rearranging his shift he'd meant it. He'd felt that his physio sessions were going so well that he didn't need his little brother there holding his metaphorical hand.

But now, vulnerable and aching, stuck between parallel bars, trying to complete complex exercises, he wishes his brother was here with him. He needs to have someone rational in his corner to explain to Mo that he _can't_ do this stupid new thing with the ball because every time he tries to, his words turn into frustrated nonsense and that only irritates him further.

He sighs deeply and stares at the floor, clinging onto the bars to keep his exhausted body upright.

"Come on, Cal, _try_ ," Mo barks.

Cal exhales sharply. He shakes his head.

"What, you're giving up now, are you?"

"This is stupid," Cal mutters.

"I'm only being hard on you because I know what you can do."

"I'm already doing it. I'm walking."

"Yeah, barely."

"Cal."

Doctor Moretti steps forwards to interject and Cal doesn't miss the warning look she directs towards Mo. He's had enough of those from Mrs Beauchamp or Ethan to recognise one when he sees it.

"Cal," she repeats. "What you've achieved so far is great but there's still more we need to work on."

Mo nods. "Mate, I'm not trying to upset you-"

"I'm not upset."

"-I just want to help," he continues. "You're walking, yeah, but I can improve your gait, your balance, your range of movement. This ball exercise is really good practice for walking on stairs."

"I'll use the lift."

He watches Mo's jaw twitch as he bites back a retort. Eventually the physio runs a hand over his head and turns away.

"Let's take a break," Doctor Moretti says. She steers the wheelchair behind Cal. "Sit down."

"No need," he says. He squeezes past her and walks unsteadily towards her desk. He knows it's a risk to do so without his crutches but he has to prove it to her, to himself, that he _is_ improving despite the ridiculous exercises Mo is expecting him to do today.

He shakily lowers himself into the chair and folds his arms. She raises her eyebrows as she sits opposite and he's not sure whether she's about to praise him or criticise him for his reckless behaviour.

Instead, she does neither.

"Coffee?"

"No."

"What's going on, Cal?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She places her elbows on the desk and leans towards him. "I know it's hard, Cal. But it's always been hard. Why have you suddenly developed this attitude?"

"See that's where you're wrong," he says. "I haven't suddenly developed anything. This is me. I don't have it in me to be better than that."

"I think you do."

"Yeah, well, you don't know me."

"I know how hard you've been working. Mo does too. He has so much faith in you, honestly."

"He's put it in the wrong guy," Cal says. His eyes sting as he recalls how far he's fallen from the positivity he'd had ahead of the session. "I can't do it. I can't do any of it. And pushing me to do stuff I can't do isn't helping. I know I'm a failure, _he_ doesn't need to point it out."

Doctor Moretti stares at him thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Why do you think you're a failure?"

Cal shrugs.

"No, come on, if you're going to say something like that, you need to be able to back it up."

"Well I've not been able to do any of the stuff today."

"No, because it's your first attempt. You're using your muscles in a way you've not had to do so before. It takes practice not defeat."

Cal glances towards the discarded physio equipment. "I thought I was making progress, but now… I dunno. I'm just tired of all this."

"Okay, then we'll talk to Mo. I'm sure he can give you some exercises to work on at home and then you can try with the ball again next time. We'll do something different after the break, end the session on a positive."

Cal's shoulders slump and he stares at his lap as he considers. What if he can no longer do the simple stuff? What if he fails at that too? He can feel the panic rising into his throat and swallows it down with a shake of his head. "No, you know what, don't worry about it. It's too hard for me." He retrieves his crutches from where they're leaning on the desk and uses them to propel himself to a standing position. He aches with exhaustion. "Ethan will be here to pick me up now. Thanks for trying but I'm done."

"Cal. Cal, where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here."

"I'm not letting you walk out mid-session." She overtakes him with ease and stands in front of him, not blocking the door completely but enough to make her point. "You're better than this."

"Wrong again," he says. "Look, you've been great but I've had enough." He forces himself to meet her eyes. "Just let me go."

She doesn't move but when he reaches for the door she does nothing to stop him. He knows she can't keep him their without his consent anyway. He shuffles down the corridor as fast as he can manage but can sense she's following him at a safe distance. He's relieved to find Ethan waiting in reception.

His brother looks up from his novel with a start. "Early aren't you?" He clocks Doctor Moretti behind him. "What's going on?"

"We're going home," Cal says. He doesn't stop but he can see his brother talking to the doctor in the reflection of the window.

Thankfully, it's only a brief exchange and Ethan follows him, even unlocking the car well in advance of reaching it himself so Cal can get in it and sit down straight away. He knows he's largely running on adrenaline now. Even a successful physio session is enough to tire him out.

Ethan gets in but doesn't put the key in the ignition and instead turns to him. "You walked out," he says.

Cal rolls his eyes. He can hear the disappointment in his brother's voice and can't stand it. "I'm sure that's what you expected of me. You know I can't commit."

"Why today?"

Cal shrugs. "It was hard." He can hear how pathetic that sounds and turns his head to look out the window, wanting to hide the tears that are beginning to form in his eyes. He suspects Ethan's not fooled anyway, especially from the way his brother sighs deeply.

"Let's go for a coffee," Ethan says.

"I don't want a coffee, Ethan."

"I know, but you need to get out of this headspace and being in the flat won't be conducive to that."

"Enough babble. Just take me home."

Ethan starts the ignition. "I will. Later. We're going for a coffee," he says, resolutely. "Any preference where?"

"I'm not going."

"Well, I'm afraid I'm driving so you don't have much of a choice."

"Oh thanks, _Brother-of-the-Century_ , for rubbing it in that I can't drive."

Ethan doesn't take the bait, only a left hand turn that leads them in the opposite direction to their flat. Cal slumps further down his seat, closes his eyes and hopes that when he opens them he'll be back in the sanctuary of his bedroom.

"So what was hard then?" Ethan asks.

Cal scrunches his eyes a little tighter and ignores him.

"Mo wouldn't have got you doing anything you aren't capable of."

"Shows what you know."

"Caleb, giving up won't make everything go away."

Cal grunts. He hates it when Ethan's right. He especially hates it when Ethan seems to have read his mind. He knows quitting physio won't end the challenges only shift them elsewhere, but he's had enough of thinking about the future. He was after instant appeasement today and that could only have been reached by ending the session early.

On cue, his phone begins to vibrate against his leg. Cal ignores it. It's not difficult to guess who's calling and he has no intention of speaking with her.

"You can't run from this," Ethan says, softly. "You have to fight if you want things to improve."

"It's not just physio, though, Ethan. It's everything."

"I'm listening."

Cal runs a hand over the back of his head. "I- I dunno. It's stupid. I just felt as if I was getting somewhere, you know? I was feeling… okay." He releases a shaky sigh. "But I couldn't do it today. My body wouldn't work and I don't know why. I'm just scared this is it, Ethan, and-" He pokes a finger in the corner of his eye to try to stem a tear. "-and I can't go back to that place I was in a few months ago. I can't! It was torture."

Ethan pulls into a layby and secures the handbrake. He turns to Cal. "Okay, look at me."

Cal blinks back the tears and reluctantly turns to face his brother.

"Cal, you're not going back there, I promise you. I won't let it happen."

"But- if I can't-"

"Everyone has bad days, okay? You've just got to see it for what it is. A bad day. That's all. It doesn't mean anything more than that." He pauses. His mouth flaps as he tries to find his words. "Cal, you're not _meant_ to find physio easy. Remember the first session when you couldn't lift the prosthesis at first? And compare that to now. Whatever it was that you struggled with today, you'll get there."

"Yeah, well, I'm out of patience."

There's not much Ethan can say to that so Cal's not surprised when his brother, rather than replying, silently offers him a tissue.

"Thanks but I'm okay."

Ethan gives him a knowing look but doesn't pursue it. They're both the same like that; it's easier to keep tears at bay than it is to stop them once they have started.

Ethan pulls back out onto the road and carries on driving. The main road branches off and leads them into a village that Cal's certain he's never been to before. Out of his window there's a church and on the opposite road a short line of shops including a post office and a self-titled unisex hairdressers which Cal wouldn't trust anywhere near a razor.

"Where the hell are we, Ethan?"

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask me that."

"You're lost?"

"Well, um, it looks okay here, doesn't it?" Ethan reverses into a parking space. "There's a coffee shop, see."

"It's full of old people." Cal loads the GPS on his phone and waits for the map to relocate. He shows his brother the screen. "Look, we're here. Can't we just drive a bit further that way? Or home?"

"Stop delaying. There's nothing wrong with old people." Ethan gets out of the car and walks past the bonnet to the passenger side, graciously ignoring the face Cal pulls at him through the windscreen. He retrieves the crutches from across the backseats and yanks open Cal's door. "Come on."

"Seriously?"

"I'm not arguing with you."

Cal tells himself he's only relenting because he's ready for a caffeine hit. He swings sideways and uses the edge of the car to push himself upright. Ethan has the crutches angled ready for him and so he feeds his arms through the loops and waits while his brother triple checks the car doors are locked. He doubts there are many car thieves in a little village like this but pointing that out to Ethan would be futile.

Cal's still in shorts from physio and as they enter the café, he notices a few glances in his direction. He follows Ethan's instructions to get a table and tries to busy himself by scrolling through social media on his phone. There's little of interest to him but he find a picture of Max, Jez, Alicia and Robyn from a night out. He selects 'like' beneath the photo although in fact he doesn't. It reminds him of what he's missing. A pang of jealousy hits his chest and he slams his phone onto the table at the same time Ethan returns with a fully laden tray.

"What's all that?" he asks.

Ethan looks a little flustered. "She wouldn't take no for an answer," he explains in a hushed tone. "I think I accidentally offended her just asking for coffees." He pushes a large slice of sponge cake in Cal's direction and shrugs. "Freshly baked, apparently."

"You know it was just a ploy to get some money out of you?"

"You reckon?"

Cal reaches out to ruffle Ethan's hair. "So naïve, baby bro." He snatches a fork off the table and stabs at the cake. "However, I'm not complaining."

Ethan gives him an embarrassed smile but tucks into his own portion, albeit in a much neater way than Cal. "Old people not so bad after all?"

"Oh, I'd prefer the pub."

"Yeah?"

"Speaking of which, I saw all the guys from work went out last night. Didn't you fancy it?"

Ethan wrinkles his nose.

"Things are still awkward with Alicia then?"

"Still? Why would you even assume they were in the first place?"

"Because I know you, Nibbles."

Ethan adds a dash more milk to the coffee and takes a long, slow sip. He pokes at some crumbs on his plate with his fork. "She offered to buy me new shoes."

"And?"

"And I said thank you but that it wasn't necessary. They're all cleaned now and polished. No-one would ever know they'd been vomited on."

"Right and what else?"

"Nothing." He holds his hands up in protest at Cal's misbelieving expression. "Honestly, nothing. We've not talked about it."

"Well that's awkward in itself."

"Yeah," Ethan admits. "But it's fine. Like I said, nothing will happen between us. We're not well suited. My alcohol tolerance is far too low for a start."

Cal's about to remind his brother that _he_ hadn't vomited on someone else's footwear but his phone starts to ring. He glances at the screen and tuts loudly. He pushes the phone away from him and slumps against the back of his chair.

Ethan leans across the table and reads the caller ID upside down. "Fran? As in Doctor Moretti?"

Cal nods.

"Aren't you going to answer?"

"No."

"At least see what she has to say."

Cal waits until the phone falls silent. "I already know."

"Cal, please give it another chance."

The phone starts ringing again.

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Ethan offers.

"Uh, no." Cal grabs the phone but treats Ethan to a look of disgust. "Fine, I'll hear her out." He swipes the screen and holds it to his ear. "What?"

"Are you home?" she asks.

"No, Ethan's holding me hostage in a coffee shop."

She pauses. "There are worse places to be held hostage, I suppose."

He frowns. Usually her jovial nature helps him but today he's not in the mood. He considers ending the call.

"Look, my next appointment's waiting for me," she says. "I don't have the luxury of time to talk you out of this ridiculous self-sabotage."

"Thank God-"

"We've had a cancellation for tomorrow," she says. "So I'll see you at 2 and you can have it out with us then."

"I'm not coming."

"Why? All I've heard from you so far is how desperate you are to have your old life back. That's not going to happen by sitting around sulking."

Cal shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He knows she's right but it's a hard truth to hear. Even Ethan's not been that blunt with him and he's not sure he likes it.

"Don't let a difficult exercise jeopardise the future you want. It's worth the effort, Cal."

"Is it?" He hisses. "Look, I didn't ask for any of this."

"No-one does," she says. "But, Cal, do you really think I make phone calls to every one of my patients who's had a bad session?"

"I- I dunno." He rubs at his forehead. It's not occurred to him up until now that she's doing anything out of the ordinary for him. He'd just seen it as additional pressure on top of what he's already feeling.

"Well I don't," she says. "Perhaps that makes me a bad prosthetist or perhaps it just means I care about you. You have too much potential for me to let you give up on yourself."

Cal doesn't reply. He can't.

"Like I say, I have to go. But 2pm tomorrow," she reminds him. "I'll see you then."

"Fine," he says, quietly.

"Good. And Cal? Listen to whatever lecture Ethan's given you. I'm sure he's right."

Cal shakes his head but smiles slightly. He ends the call and meets his brother's expectant gaze.

"Well?"

"Yeah. I'm going to go in tomorrow and give it another go." He shoves a heaped forkful of cake into his mouth. He doesn't really want it but hopes it indicates that the conversation is over. He looks up to see a big smile creeping on to Ethan's face. "Stop grinning like an idiot," he says between chews. "I'm still annoyed at you for kidnapping me."


	15. Chapter 15

Oh, you guys are amazing! Seriously, thank you so much for all your kind reviews, you are all stars and really boosted my confidence with this.

I'm cheating a little with this part by jumping forwards in time. I had initially told myself I wouldn't but I wanted to keep the story moving and Cal wasn't quite at the point I needed him to be. I hope that's okay.

While writing this I accidentally started a game of seeing how many characters I can give cameos to in one part. Honestly, I struggle to write anyone but the brothers but I promise I have tried my best.

Really hope I haven't let you all down with this part. Please let me know what you think.

 **casfics:** Thanks for reviewing. I really love (loved?) the way they joke around with each other and it's so fun to write. Thank you for the comments on my writing, you're so kind. Hope you enjoy this part too.

 **Guest:** Thank you so much, I'm really glad their interactions are believable. I wish we had more of them on the show too, in fact I could go on about that forever! Hope you like this update.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** I know, I miss old Ethan nearly as much as I do Cal. I do hope we'll get him back soon though, but in the meantime, I guess that's what fics are for. Thank you for your review, I'm just really pleased you're still enjoying this and I hope you continue to do so.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** I love their teasing so much and I'm so pleased you think I write it well. I like how you say 'for now' - it's like you've read my mind haha. Thank you for your review but especially that last comment, that's so nice of you to say it's like a book - I don't know about that extent but certainly I've planned this way more carefully than anything else I've done. Thank you.

 **Alice:** Wow, thank you for all your reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying reading this and are hooked. Kind comments like that make all the work worth it!

 **InfinityAndOne:** Thank you, I'm so pleased you like the fic and think that it's realistic to the characters. Glad I managed to get a few amusing bits in there among all the angst. Hope you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

 **15.**

* * *

Some time later

* * *

In the months since his accident, Cal has frequently doubted he'd reach this stage. At first, it had seemed impossible. And then even when it became plausible, it was always so obscenely far in the future that he'd felt he needed an extra powerful telescope to witness it.

But now, just metres from the hospital entrance, it finally feels real. He grinds to a halt.

"Okay?" Ethan asks from behind.

"Yeah," Cal replies without looking at him. "Yeah, fine."

"Right." There's a pause. "Then why aren't we moving?"

"It's always question after question with you. I'm just enjoying the moment, Ethan. Taking in the scenery."

"Yeah, well, we're in a car park and you're about to be late for your meeting."

Cal grunts. "Starting as I mean to go on."

Ethan moves so he's in front and Cal can't avoid looking at him for any longer. His brother lays a gentle hand on his wrist. "You know, it's okay to be nervous."

"I'm not."

"Okay, but-"

" _I'm not_ ," Cal insists. "Not… about the meeting anyway."

"Then what?"

Cal shakes his head. "You'll think it's stupid."

"I highly doubt that."

The sincerity in his brother's voice spurs Cal on. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I- I dunno, Ethan. It's just different now, isn't it? I'm not the same person I was last time I was here."

"No, no, you're not." Ethan places his hands either side of Cal's shoulders. "You're stronger."

"I don't want to be strong, though. I want to be what I used to be. Someone who would have a laugh with the lads, flirt with the nurses, the pretty ones, obviously, and then diagnose a rare condition or- or stem a haemorrhage. You know, save some lives."

"Yeah, and you will."

"You reckon?"

"I know," Ethan says.

Cal's gaze falls to the floor but he nods. "Okay." He takes a deep breath. "Thanks bro. Uh, what time are we on?"

"Exactly half past. Come on."

"Hang on, I want to see it first," Cal says.

"…See what?"

Cal taps his left thigh. "Where this happened."

Ethan's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I can't avoid it forever. Where else am I meant to go for a cigarette break?"

"You don't smoke."

"Yeah, but not everyone knows that. We all need to skive for five minutes sometimes, don't we?"

"Um, no."

"Well anyway, I want to see it."

Ethan wrinkles his nose. "I just don't think now is a good time."

"You don't think I'm ready," Cal accuses.

"I think you're _late_."

Cal ignores him in favour of heading towards the area the helicopter crashed. He knows his brother is dutiful enough to follow him or else he wouldn't have risked walking off by himself.

He can still imagine the scene as it was that day; collapsed scaffolding, bricks everywhere, injured people scattered among the wreckage as if they were part of the rubble themselves. As he approaches, he feels a stab of pain somewhere he knows does not exist. He takes a deep breath and turns the corner.

He almost forgets to exhale. The area is completely different to those memories. Everything has returned to normal and looks as if nothing ever happened. He blinks. The building has been rebuilt, the debris cleared away and the surviving casualties left to face their fate.

Even though he knows months have passed and that health and safety laws dictate a swift restoration, he had expected to see some indication of the accident. If he can never fully recover, the crash site shouldn't either. He's frozen, his eyes fixed on the spot where his life changed forever. And then he sees it. On the corner of the wall he had been trapped against is a large slash where the bricks have been cracked and not replaced. He's sure that damage is caused by a part of the same propeller that destroyed his leg. He shudders.

"They cleaned it up surprisingly quickly," Ethan says.

"Trying to pretend it didn't happen."

"I- I don't think it was that."

Cal shrugs. "You don't have to try to make it better. It's just a bit of concrete. It doesn't matter."

Ethan gives the single nod Cal knows he always gives when he's not convinced. He's grateful when his brother doesn't pursue the topic, instead giving a pointed look at his watch.

"Seriously, Cal, the time."

"I know, I know."

They retrace and walk in sync towards the entrance.

Ethan's hand lightly touches his back. "Look, come and find me after the meeting. I want to know how it goes."

"I will." As the approach the doors, Cal recognises a figure arriving at the same time as them. He groans audibly, inadvertently attracting their attention. "Now there's a bad omen, if I ever saw one," he mutters to Ethan.

" _Cal_ ," his brother warns.

Lily's face floods with surprise as she sees Cal but she masks it quickly and nods towards them. "Good morning. Nice to see you back Doctor Knight. I- I didn't know you were coming in today."

Cal huffs. He doesn't understand how she can go from chopping off his leg one minute to making small talk the next. He stares her coolly in the eye and then turns to Ethan. "Well that's my cue to leave. See you later, bro."

He scuttles into the hustle of the E.D. He can imagine Ethan, behind him, apologising to Lily for his rudeness but sincerely hopes he's wrong. He doesn't want to think about his brother being friends with her.

Several heads shoot up as they see him. Noel unsettles a heap of files in his eagerness to shake his hand. Jacob claps him on the back so hard Cal's forced to feel grateful he's not still on crutches. Only Charlie maintains a thoughtful distance, smiling warmly from the other end of the nurse's station but respecting his space. Cal uses his poor timekeeping to his advantage and uses it as an excuse to rush to Mrs Beauchamp's office.

"Doctor Knight," she says as he walks in. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to grace us with your presence, after all."

"Sorry," he says. He wouldn't usually but he needs her on side.

"Take a seat."

She continues to file her paperwork and Cal understands she's making it clear that as he kept her waiting, she's doing the same. He doesn't mind. Her attitude resembles normality whereas the exuberance of his colleague had not.

"So you're ready to return to work?"

"More than ready."

She slides into her office chair and crosses her legs. "How's physio coming along? You're with Francesca Moretti, aren't you?"

Cal nods.

"I know her. She's good."

"Yeah. Yeah she is," Cal says. He can barely imagine the two of them as acquaintances, certainly not as friends. "Uh, how do you know her?"

"Oh," she says, loftily, "we were both becoming successful within our chosen fields of medicine at around the same time. Two women in a male dominated environment. We survived a few uncomfortably sexist conferences together and our paths have crossed several times since."

"She's okayed me returning to work," Cal says eagerly. He pulls a crumpled letter from his jeans pocket. "And my physio has."

Connie accepts the scrunched up pieces of paper but puts them on her desk without a second glance. "And how _is_ physio going?"

"Yeah, fine."

"Come on, Cal, I need more than that. I've seen first-hand how difficult it can be."

Cal nods grimly. "Grace. How is she?"

"She's back home with me," she says. "Thank you for asking but we're not here to talk about my daughter, this is about you."

"I've still got fortnightly appointments," he says. "So I'll need to work my shifts around them, I'm afraid. But it's going well. I can do most things. Everything I need to for the job. If you'll read the letters-"

"Yes, thank you, I will."

Cal knows better than to pursue it and so waits patiently while Connie scribbles something into her diary and pauses to think.

"Okay," she says eventually. "So two days a week back at work."

"Two days?!" Cal leans forward in his seat and gawps at her. "No, I want full time."

"A phased return is protocol after a certain length of sickness absence."

"Screw protocol."

"Doctor Knight," she warns. "You still need to take care of yourself. You'll be surprised at how tiring the demands of this job can be after a break." She pauses. "I can authorise three days but no more."

"Four," he says, sulkily.

"Three," she insists. "In minors."

"Minors? Are you serious?"

"That's my offer. Take it or leave it."

He folds his arms across his chest. He knows he's not in a position to argue. "Fine."

"I'm glad to hear it." She treats him to a rare smile. "Trust me, Cal, I do have your best interests at heart. The restrictions are just to ease you back into the job."

Cal frowns. He doesn't want easing, he wants throwing in the deep end so he can prove to everyone, himself included, that he still has it.

"I can't allow you in Resus yet, understood?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, cubicles only. I get it."

"And if there are any signs you're struggling or in discomfort, you report to me at once."

"Yes, whatever." Cal knows her glare is directed at his flippant tone. He straightens up and takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says much more calmly. "I will."

"Then I'll add you to the rota for next week," she says.

He leaves her office, flooded with an urge to talk to his brother. He can't spot him easily and so sidles up behind Charlie and leans against the desk.

"Seen Ethan?"

"Resus, I think."

Cal sighs deeply at the name of the area he's forbidden from.

"Everything okay?" the nurse asks in concern. "Thought you'd be pleased to be officially back with us."

Cal scans the building to check no-one else is listening. "Connie's only signed me off part-time."

Charlie's lack of reaction speaks volumes.

"You knew?"

"I assumed." Charlie rubs the back of his head. "It's protocol, Cal."

"Yeah, so I hear," Cal says, grumpily. "You could have warned me."

"Sorry, I hadn't realised I needed to."

Cal grunts. "Do me a favour, Charlie. Can you ask my brother to meet me in the staff room as soon as he's free?"

"I will do." Charlie pauses. "Now, Cal, are you still okay for tonight?

"Wouldn't miss it," Cal says firmly.

He settles onto the staffroom couch. It feels strange being back and yet nothing's changed. The place is still a mess with a springy sofa and more half-drank coffee mugs lying around than he can be bothered to count. He selects a discarded magazine from the table. It's full of celebrity gossip and doesn't interest him but turning the pages is something to pass the time. The staffroom door opens and his gaze shoots up but it's not Ethan, only Robyn and Louise.

"Oh, hi, Cal," Robyn says. "I heard you were in today."

"Yeah. Return to work meeting."

"That's great. When are you back?"

"Monday, I think."

"Brill."

She turns away from him to retrieve something from her locker but Louise is still staring at him curiously.

"So you've got a prosthetic leg now then?" she asks.

"Uh, yeah."

"Can I see it?"

Robyn swings back from her locker and elbows Louise less than subtly. "Lou, you can't ask him that!" she mutters.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, it's rude!"

"I'm just interested," she says.

Cal clears his throat. "You know I still have my own ears, though, right?"

The nurses share an embarrassed look.

"Sorry, Cal," Robyn says.

Louise folds her arms across her chest. "I wasn't being rude, alright, I've just never seen one before." She flinches at another sharp nudge from Robyn. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." She glares at her friend. "He knows I'm insensitive, what's the point in pretending otherwise?"

"It's fine," Cal says. He shuffles uncomfortably, unsure whether he's meant to show Louise his leg in order to prove he meant his words. "You both out for Charlie's thing tonight?"

"Yes!" Robyn clasps her hands together. "I love a good engagement party. They're so sweet, aren't they Lou?"

"Sickly sweet," Louise replies. "Oh look, there's me and my big mouth again."

Robyn shakes her head in despair. "And this is before all the alcohol!"

Cal forces himself to join in with their laughter but doesn't bother to disguise his relief when Ethan finally walks into the room.

"Sorry, Cal, my patient's about to go to theatre. I have two minutes before handover, if that."

"I'll be quick."

"What's the verdict?"

Cal waits until the two giggling nurses have returned to the ward before pulling a face. "Three days a week. No Resus."

"But you're back?"

"Yeah."

"Well that's great news!"

Cal scowls. "Don't tell me you're siding with _them_."

Ethan's brows crease and he shakes his head in confusion. "Sorry, what?"

"I wanted full time," Cal says. He's aware he sounds like a petulant child but it's not as if his brother hasn't seen that side of him before. "And I don't want to be stuck in cubicles."

"It won't be forever." Ethan squeezes his shoulder. "You have to be-"

"Patient," Cal finishes for him. "I know. But I'm not."

"Cal, please don't be disappointed," Ethan says. "This is good. Really good." He smiles. "Anyway, it may surprise you, but I'm looking forward to us working together again."

Despite himself, Cal manages a small smile in return. "Yeah. Me too."

* * *

Ethan toys with the pint Cal had insisted on buying him. He had planned to stay alcohol free so that he is in peak condition to look after his brother on his first night out, however his request for a lemonade had been lost somewhere between it leaving his mouth and Cal reaching the bar. He takes a miniscule sip of the beer and returns the glass to the table.

Cal's drink next to his is already two thirds empty.

"You know, just because you _can_ drink now you're off the meds, it doesn't mean you _have_ to."

Cal pulls a face. "Of course it does."

"Just take it easy, okay? Your tolerance won't be the same as what it used to."

"Yes, Nibbles, I know." Cal takes another slurp of his beer. "Listen, don't spend the evening worrying about me."

"I'm not."

"I can see it in your face." Cal reaches out and taps the bridge of his nose. "Just here. You're all wrinkled."

Ethan resettles his glasses. "Don't poke me."

"Then drink your beer and relax. Enjoy yourself! It's Charlie's engagement party."

He makes an effort to loosen his expression but Ethan resolves himself to make the one beer last the whole night. He hadn't missed the nervous breaths Cal was taking in the taxi and suspects his brother will rely on alcohol to supress any signs of being overwhelmed.

A whoop draws Ethan's attention and he looks up to see Max and Iain descending upon them, laden with a tray full of drinks. The tray crashes onto the table as they sit down but somehow barely a drop is spilt.

"You're not getting away with avoiding us for months," Iain says to Cal with a grin.

"So we have nice shots, nasty shots and throwing-up-yesterday's-dinner shots," Max says. "But we're not telling you which is which."

Cal gives a nervous chuckle. "Are you serious?"

"Which is it to be, mate?"

From the fleeting glance his brother gives him, Ethan's sure Cal knows he disapproves. And yet, he picks up a glass from the centre of the tray and brings it to his lips.

"I know what this is, I can smell it. No problem, lads." Cal drains it in one and slams the short glass back on the table.

"Easy start," Max says. He selects a shot himself and drinks it with ease. "So have you lost your phone mate, or just forgotten how to work it?"

"Uh." Cal's eyes flicker to Ethan again. "Yeah, about that…"

"We wanted to know how you were doing," Iain says. "We're not gonna just ditch a pal in a time of need."

"What he's trying to say is that we care."

Max's earnest comment hangs in the air and Ethan feels a pull of affection towards the porter that he's not done before. It lasts only seconds before Max ruins it by pulling Cal towards him and making kissing faces.

"Get off me," Cal says laughing, shoving him away. He runs a hand over his head. "Thanks though. I just- I needed to be off radar for a bit, while I… adjusted."

Iain nods but looks down at his lap. Max rubs the back of his head and takes a large gulp of his pint. Their silence is respectful but soon grows awkward and Ethan suspects his brother is as glad as he is when Max loudly clears his throat.

"Okay," Max says. He edges the tray of shots towards Iain. "Now, this was your idea so don't go wimping out."

"Wasn't my idea," Iain says but he carefully selects his shot and manages it without a grimace.

"Hang on," Cal says, looking suspiciously between the two men. "Do you know which is which?"

"Yep," they answer in unison.

"Come on, that's not fair!"

"We don't give a toss."

"Ethan?"

Ethan feels his eyes widen in alarm as Iain offers him the tray. "Oh, no, no," he says. "Not for me. Thank you."

"So, Cal again then."

Ethan's stomach sinks and he considers changing his mind about having a shot, just to alleviate the number of them his brother is drinking. "Um, don't you want to offer one to Charlie?" he suggests.

"Charlie? Nah, mate, he's a pint man, not spirits."

Cal helps himself to one of the many glasses and tips it into his mouth. He chokes and turns to the side, holding the back of his hand against his mouth as he splutters. "That's foul," he croaks.

Max chuckles. "Remember what happened the last time you drank that?"

"Uh, no."

"In Aura? The girl with the…" he mimes cupping pair of breasts. "And we caught you sha-"

Ethan does his best to ignore the rest of the conversation. He does not want to hear what his brother got up to with random girls in nightclubs. He looks away and scans the room for a distraction.

His gaze falls on Alicia. She's at the bar, smiling as Louise tops her glass up with wine. It is white wine this time and he wonders whether the fateful bottle of red they'd shared at hers had put her off it. He wishes that night hadn't ended the way it did.

While she's engaged in conversation with a few of their colleagues, he can't help but watch her. Despite the weeks of awkwardness between them he still feels the same. She looks beautiful, in a simple black dress with her long hair flowing, but it's not just physical attraction that makes his chest swell. He's sure there's a connection between them.

She seems to sense him looking at her for she suddenly turns her head in his direction. She smiles at him and he smiles back and for a moment it's like it's just the two of them in the pub. He stands up to go to her but as he does so, she moves away to embrace a broad shouldered man who has just arrived.

His cheeks burn. He doesn't want to sit back down and acknowledge his mistake so he makes a beeline for Charlie and Duffy and offers to buy them a congratulatory drink. They accept but then he realises that means he has to approach the bar, closer to where Alicia is all eyelashes and puckered lips while she chats to her frustratingly handsome friend.

While he waits to order he reads the names of all the craft beers on offer. He neither wants one nor is a connoisseur but it is preferable to getting caught watching Alicia flirt with someone else. Yet, he can't help his curiosity and once he's ordered their two drinks but nothing for himself, he chances a look in her direction. Alicia's arms are around the stranger's neck and he's whispering something in her ear.

Ethan hands the drinks to Charlie and Duffy and relaxes now that he can escape from having a direct view of Alicia's antics. But her musical laugh echoes across the room and he instinctively looks back over his shoulder and witnesses the moment she places her lips on the man's.

"She's a player."

Cal's voice appears out of nowhere and makes Ethan jump. He's slurring already and Ethan's worries relocate onto his brother. He shakes his head in despair.

"How many of those shots have you had?"

"Not so many I don't know when you're trying to change the subject." Cal wraps his arm around Ethan's shoulders and leans into him. "I want a drink. What you having, little brother?"

"Um, nothing. And perhaps you shouldn't either." He dips under Cal's weight. "Caleb, get off."

"No," Cal says. "No, I'm comforting my baby bro."

"Comforting me? Why?"

Cal points across the bar, his lack of subtly turning Ethan's cheeks pink. "Kissing someone in front of you. That's not on."

"Cal!" Ethan forces his brother's arm back to his side. "It's okay. Nothing's going on between me and Alicia. I told you; we wouldn't work."

"Who is he anyway?"

"I don't know."

"Prick," Cal says. He finally releases Ethan but only to slump across the bar and wave a hand in the direction of the barman. "Two pints, mate."

" _One_." Ethan insists. "I'm not drinking."

"Who said one was for you?"

"And a tap water please," Ethan asks barman. He rolls his eyes at Cal. " _That's_ for you."

"I'm not drunk, Nibbles."

"Just slow down, okay? You've got all night."

"I want to see Charlie," Cal says. "It's his party, where's he hiding?"

Ethan blinks. "Seriously? He's right behind you. Now, please, can you drink some water?"

Cal ignores him and staggers over to Charlie, one hand clasping his beer, his other soon landing on the nurse's shoulder. "Charlie, my man!"

"Cal." Charlie removes his hand from around Duffy's waist to help steady him. "You okay?"

"Never better." Cal slurps at his beer. "Honestly, Charlie, I feel so good. I- I feel like now is the time."

Ethan sees Charlie's eyes searching for his. He meets his gaze and mouths an apology over his brother's shoulder. He takes one step closer for good measure.

"Right. Good." Charlie deadpans.

There's a pause. Ethan drives an arm in front of Cal and tries to hand him the glass of water but his brother swats it away, sloshing his own drink over the rim.

"Cal, please-"

"No, no, Charlie's getting married!" Cal announces. "Tying the knot. Ball and chain. We have to celebrate."

Cal thrusts his pint glass in Ethan's direction and it clunks against his chin.

"Ow," Ethan says, pointedly.

"You missed."

"Okay then, pass it here."

Cal gives him the glass. Ethan turns to the side slightly and mimes putting the glass to his lips. While Cal distracted with Charlie, Ethan places the beer on the table and swaps it for the water. He hands over the water and his brother takes it, automatically bringing it to his mouth.

Cal splutters. "Urgh," he says, as if he's never tasted something as disgusting as the water. "That's not my… Ethan! You know, I _can_ taste the difference. I'm drunk, not stupid."

Ethan huffs at the exposure of his plan. "So you're admitting you are drunk now, at least."

"S'not a crime. Not like you- you tricking me."

"It's not a crime," Ethan admits. "But you're going to make yourself ill. Your body's not used to it at the moment, remember? We talked about this earlier."

Cal reaches out and ruffles Ethan's hair. "I wish you'd drink. You're more fun when you're drunk."

Ethan smooths his hair. "I'm fun," he says, slightly offended.

"He's not, is he, Charlie?"

The nurse holds up his hands in protest. "Don't bring me into this!"

"See, Charlie agrees. And he's right about everything-"

"He didn't agree, Cal."

"- _And_ he's drinking. Duffy's drinking Everyone's drinking except you." Cal scans the room. "Alicia's hammered. Hey, Nibbles, at least it won't be you getting thrown up on tonight."

As he watches his brother down the rest of his beer, Ethan groans. "That's debatable."

Cal staggers back to the bar and Ethan reluctantly follows.

"I'm buying Charlie a drink," Cal announces. "But not you."

"I don't want one anyway."

"Well you should."

Ethan watches helplessly as Cal orders two whiskeys and drinks the first before he's even remembered to pay. Cal slumps onto a stall, his back against the bar, and brings the second glass to his lips.

"I thought that one was for Charlie."

"He can have the next one."

"No, Cal-"

Ethan neglects his sentence as his brother tilts dangerously to the side. He wedges Cal upright with his own body and firmly removes the drink from him.

"Ethan-"

"You've had enough."

"Don't feel good."

"Yeah. Yeah I know." Ethan sighs. "Come on, let's get some fresh air."

He expects Cal to resist but his brother murmurs something indistinct and clasps a hand to his mouth. His body shudders. "Feel sick."

"Okay. Forget outside. Toilets." Ethan throws his brother's arm over his shoulders and supports his weight as he stumbles off the bar stool. "Hold it in for a minute, Cal. Please."

Cal doesn't speak but Ethan supposes that's for the best. His brother has lost any sense of co-ordination and it's with difficulty that Ethan gets them to the toilets without crashing into any other patrons. He follows Cal into a cubicle and locks the door, his hands slipping under his brother's arms just in time to lower him to the ground.

Cal lurches forwards and noisily vomits into the toilet. Ethan pulls a face, but kneels down behind his brother and gently rubs at his back.

"I knew this would happen," he says as softly as he can.

Cal responds by throwing up again.

They sit like that for some time, Cal's head hanging forwards, Ethan's chest the only thing keeping him upright. Eventually, when Ethan's confident his brother has finished vomiting, he shuffles slightly to one side.

"You okay?" he asks in a whisper.

Cal turns to look at him, eyes damp, mouth swollen. He manages a smile. "Amazing," he says. "I'm back."


	16. Chapter 16

It's been so long, I'm sorry! I wish I had more time to write as then there would be updates all the time. I really hope I've not left it too long and lost anyone.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thanks for reviewing. Yeah, it must have been hard for Cal and I think particularly because the building has been returned to the way it was before the accident whereas that's not completely possible for him. Hope you continue to enjoy the story.

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Thank you for your review. The relationship between Cal and Lily is a difficult one after everything that has happened, so I'm pleased the inclusion of that worked so far. Glad you liked the drunk scene - it was surprisingly hard to write, give me angst any day! But let's face it, it's Cal, so it was bound to happen at some point haha.

 **casfics:** Thank you, hope you like the update too.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Yeah he has made massive improvements but I can't promise I'll keep it plain sailing haha. Thank you so much for saying you like my dialogue, that's my favourite part to write a lot of the time, so I'm really pleased you like it. Thanks for leaving a review.

* * *

 **16.**

* * *

Cal turns the key in his locker with trepidation. It has always been the home for a wide variety of essentials; crisps, coffee granules, loose change, condoms and a bottle of Vodka until that time Connie noticed it and ordered him to get it off the premises before she did so herself. But he can't remember what state he left in it all those months ago.

He wishes he could pass the task of cleaning it over to Ethan like the dirty dishes at home, but his brother is in charge of cubicles for the shift and so has deserted him for handover, leaving him a peace offering of a pair of latex gloves and a reminder to bin anything unsavoury.

Cal takes a deep breath and opens the locker door, peering suspiciously around into it. He wrinkles his nose. In the corner, next to his stethoscope, and eying him mockingly, is a very mouldy banana. He feels his way into the gloves, eyes transfixed by the way the banana is so black that fumes are emanating from it. He reaches into the locker and tells himself it can't be worse than that time he'd had to pick maggots from a patient's infected wound. Tentatively, his fingers close around it.

"Good morning."

A voice from behind him makes him jump. He doesn't need to turn to find out who the voice belongs to but Lily's tones immediately set him on edge. He squares his shoulders and grabs the banana, using to force to throw it in the bin. He removes his gloves and chucks them on top of the banana.

"Are you well?"

Cal grits his teeth and returns to his locker without looking at Lily. Her presence is bad enough, expecting him to talk to her just adds insult. She's the reason that nothing's ever going to be the same again. He counts to ten, hoping that by the time he does so, she'll have taken the hint and vanished.

"Doctor Knight?"

He examines his stethoscope for signs of contamination from the banana, scowling into his locker as he does so. He's been trying very hard to pretend everything's normal, that it's just another day at work, but the rare uncertainty in her voice reminds him that's not the case. He can't believe that after amputating his leg, she's now trying unsettle him before his first shift back. He clenches his fist and tries to keep his breathing even.

"Cal, I know-"

Something inside snaps and he whirls around to face her, all reticence now lost. "What? What do you know?"

"I-"

"You know how much my life's changed because of what _you_ did? You know how hard it's been?"

She bows her head and her hair falls into her face. She brushes it back with a shaking hand. "Please can-"

Cal slams his locker door shut. The crash cuts Lily's sentence in half.

"-can we-?"

"Just stay away from me," he says. "That's the least you can do."

He storms past her, desperately hoping he's not noticeably limping. Out on the ward, he makes a beeline for Ethan but instantly regrets it when his brother takes one look at his face and frowns.

"What's wrong?"

Cal tuts. He forgets how well his little brother can read him. "Nothing that I want to discuss," he says, grumpily. "Can I have a patient?"

He expects Ethan to discourage him from getting stuck in straight away but instead he nods towards the pile of folders.

"Help yourself."

"Really?"

"Well that's what you're here for, isn't it?" Ethan gives him a teasing nudge.

"You've not lined up a suitable _ease-me-back-in_ candidate?"

"Um, no." Ethan's forehead creases in confusion. "Should I have?"

"No. No, I'm glad you didn't." Appeased, Cal takes the top file and scans it. "Right. Okay."

"Caleb."

"What?"

"Just, don't be afraid to ask for help, okay? I can be your brother or your colleague but… ask. If you need to. I'm here."

"Okay. Thanks." Cal settles his stethoscope around his neck. The familiar weight of it helps him feel more like a doctor. He takes another file and pointedly presses it against his brother's chest. "Time for you to get to work too, Nibbles. See you in a bit."

Cal heads towards his cubicle. His patient is an eighteen-year-old who has minor injuries following a road traffic collision. He takes a deep breath and slips behind the curtain.

"Hello, I'm-"

"I didn't mean to do it!" his patient cries out to him, interrupting. "I promise!"

Cal looks to Robyn who is already by their young patient's side, gently stroking her arm. The nurse gives a subtle nod, code revealing she's been this distressed since her arrival in the E.D.

"That doesn't matter now," he says. "We're just here to get you better."

"Abbie," Robyn says. "This is Doctor Knight. He's going to need to check you over, okay, so try to stay calm for us."

"I haven't been drinking," she tells them. She drags a hand across her eyes, further smearing her mascara. "I'm not like that. I wouldn't."

Robyn continues to stroke her arm. "It's okay."

"But that's what the police thought. They made me do a breath test."

"They have to," Cal says. "They did the same to me when I crashed my car last year." He decides it's probably best not to mention he _had_ been drinking and the breathalyser came several hours and a round of IV fluids later. "Abbie, can you tell me where it hurts?"

She looks startled at the question and it stems her tears. "Oh, erm, I dunno. My neck. My chest."

"And do you have any dizziness or nausea?"

"I feel a bit sick." Her eyes widen. "I thought that was just the shock."

"It may well be," he says. "Did you lose consciousness at all?"

"No."

"Okay. Just turn your head slowly to the left." He watches Abbie follow his instructions. "And to the right." She's still trembling but she moves without impairment. "Back to the middle. And now roll your chin onto your chest and back up again." He places his hands either side of her neck and gently feels for signs of swelling. "Okay, good. Feel okay?"

"Just stiff."

"It looks to me like minor whiplash so that's to be expected. I'll send you for a scan just to be on the safe side."

"A- a scan?"

Robyn's hands return to Abbie's shoulder. "Sweetheart, are you sure there's no-one I can phone for you? Your mum?"

The suggestion sends a tear trickling down Abbie's cheek. "She'll kill me!"

"I'm sure she'll just be relieved you're in one piece."

"She only bought me the car a few weeks ago for my eighteenth. I've ruined it already!" She looks between the two of them, panic stricken. "Please don't ring her."

Cal sighs. He would much rather have her parents here to keep her calm but she's classed as an adult, albeit only just, so he knows he has to respect her decision. "Your call."

"Thank you." She slumps back onto the pillow and rubs at her eyes. "What next?"

"I need to examine your chest. Am I okay to loosen your gown?" He waits for her to murmur her consent before continuing. Her chest is mottled with bruising from the seatbelt. He places his stethoscope against her and moves it to all the key areas but finds no reason for concern. "Robyn, twenty minute obs for now, please, and can you book a precautionary CT?" As Robyn leaves, he turns back to his patient. "We'll keep you monitored for now but don't worry, everything is looking good."

"Except my car," she says.

"You sure it's a write off?"

She shrugs. "Either way, I'm never driving again."

"That's a hasty decision. Think about it once you're over the shock."

She wrinkles her nose. "Do you still drive after your crash?"

Cal hesitates. It feels weird to say yes now that he can no longer drive, but knows the point of her question was whether he'd continued at the time. He gives a short nod. "I borrowed my brother's car the day after."

"There's no way I'm driving tomorrow."

"They say the longer you leave it the harder it gets."

He can see Abbie considering his statement and is suddenly hit with a reminder of how he's been elevated into this position of having to give advice to the young and vulnerable. It's never bothered him before, usually letting words drift from his mouth with ease. But now he knows it from the other perspective, he acknowledges the weight his words may hold.

She sniffs. "You reckon?"

"Yeah. You've gotta get yourself back out there." He pauses, recognising similarities. "I suppose the same is true for most things," he mutters, mostly to himself.

* * *

Ethan watches his patient storm out of the E.D, her handback slipping from her shoulder and her patent heels clicking on the floor. He had to explain to her that her common cold was not worth her attending hospital and she'd accused him of being heartless. He supposes that her four hour wait in reception had contributed to her bad mood but he knows that the same four hour wait was largely a result of the high number of people frequenting the department for similarly unnecessary reasons.

His patient leaves with a final flourish of dramatics; a single finger stuck up in Ethan's vague direction. He sighs. He can't deny he's glad she's gone but he hates the part of his job that forces him to upset people, for whatever reason.

"Who upset _her_?"

Ethan huffs in amusement at his brother's incredulity. Evidently Cal's time away from work had made him forget how some of their patients behaved. "Um, me."

"Time waster?"

"Runny nose and sore throat." Ethan shrugs. "Unfortunately, not much I could do for her."

"Yeah. Time water."

"I offered her a tissue," Ethan says, as if that should have solved everything.

"Can't please them all, bro."

On cue, an elderly lady toddles out from the cubicle Cal had come from and clasps his hand in both of hers.

"Thank you, Doctor," she says. "God bless you."

"My pleasure, Mavis," he replies. "You take care of yourself. No dancing on tables until that wound's healed, okay?"

"Oh, you are a devil!" she says, but she keeps hold of him. "Best trip to hospital I've ever had." She pauses. "Are you single? My granddaughter could do with a fine young man like you."

Cal laughs. "I'm sure it would be my honour but there's some rule or other that forbids it."

Ethan remains silent but raises his eyebrows. His brother's already broken that rule on several occasions, and they're just the times he knows about.

"Oh alright," Mavis says, sadly. "I wouldn't want you to get in trouble. Thank you again, Doctor. You've been very kind and helpful."

As Mavis begins her slow journey to the exit, Cal turns to Ethan and smirks.

"Well," he says, referring to his earlier statement. " _Some_ of us can't please them all!"

In the past, Ethan would have put a stop to this kind of bragging with a scathing reply, probably about something Cal had neglected to do. Today he lets him have it. His chest aches with pride for his brother for doing so well on his first day back after everything he's been through.

"Sounds like you have a fan," he says. "And quite possibly a granddaughter to impress."

Cal shakes his head at that. "Unless she is in need of medical attention, I'm not interested."

Ethan opens his mouth to ask what Cal who he is and what he's done with his brother, then abruptly shuts it again. He knows what's changed. In the dark days just after Cal's accident, his brother's depressed ruminations had often been about the lack of interest he perceived women would now have in him. While Ethan doesn't believe that to be true, he knows Cal's self-esteem was severely knocked and he doesn't want to bring it up while he's feeling unusually positive.

"Well there are plenty of people who are," Ethan says, nodding pointedly towards the cubicles.

"Don't want to keep my fans waiting!"

Ethan shakes his head despairingly but he's smiling. His brother grins back and disappears into cubicle five.

Ethan stares at the closed curtain. He's been trying his best to keep an eye on Cal while giving the appearance of doing the exact opposite. He doesn't want his brother to think he's watching him as he has doubts about his capability but he wouldn't be doing his brotherly duty if he wasn't there ready in case Cal needed him.

Being in charge of cubicles is helpful as it's meant he's had a reason to ask for updates on his patients and to monitor how many have been discharged, admitted or are still undergoing treatment. Cal's statistics are good and the only case he's asked for support with is something that required two doctors anyway. But Ethan's noticed his brother leaning heavily on the nurse's station while talking to colleagues and his eyes drooping while he's been reading files. He hopes he hasn't come back to work too early.

A cry comes from a nearby cubicle and Ethan is forced to swallow his concerns. He has checked that patient over already but is still waiting for the outcome of a blood test. A drunken tattoo abroad is rarely a good idea but Ethan assumes even less so if you're a forty-two year old married man, the tattoo reads _Sexy Lexi_ inside of a love heart, and your wife's name could not feasibly be shortened to anything similar to Lexi.

He hastens into the cubicle. His patient is unconscious, slumped sideways across the pillows. His wife, Christine, has her hands on his shoulders, shaking him as she cries.

"Okay, what happened?" Ethan steps in front of her and places his stethoscope on his patient's chest. His heartrate is fast, his skin pale and clammy.

"I- I don't…" She stifles a sob. "We were just talking. Arguing. And he… Oh God! You have to help him."

"I'm going to," Ethan says. He presses the alarm and releases the breaks from the trolley with his foot. "Please try to stay calm; we're going to do everything we can."

The alarm has alerted both Cal and Robyn from nearby cubicles. Ethan winces. Cal's just doing his job, responding to an urgent call, but Ethan knows his patient needs to be taken to Resus, where his brother is not yet authorised to work. He knows he's obliged to remind Cal he can't help with this one, but his brother is still sensitive and his mood easily swayed. He doesn't want to upset Cal but he doesn't think he has time to word it delicately while his patient remains unconscious.

He's rescued from his dilemma by the arrival of Lily and he finally allows himself to exhale. He directs his explanation to her, offering a silent apology to Cal with his eyes.

"Infected tattoo; suspected sepsis. I'm still waiting on bloods."

"I'll chase them." Robyn disappears towards the phones.

"Let's get him straight to Resus," Lily says. "Anything else I need to know?"

"He's tachycardic but that's a recent development. Patient's otherwise fit and healthy."

"Okay, good."

Ethan helps her wheel the trolley down the corridor, leaving both the wife and his brother in their wake. He chances a quick glace towards Cal, expecting to see him looking dejected but hoping he's not upset or too annoyed at being rebuffed.

What he sees instead is worse. Cal's eyes are on Lily, not him, but he's glaring at her with pure hatred. A new bout of worry settles at the pit of Ethan's stomach.

* * *

"So how are you finding being back at work?" Doctor Moretti asks.

Cal turns the speed of the treadmill up a notch. "Yeah, good."

"Okay and now tell me the truth."

Cal laughs. She's able to read him well. Not as well as Ethan but no-one will ever get close. "Tiring," he says. "When I first heard I was only allowed back part time, I… well, I wasn't happy. But now I can see why."

"Part time is still good progress, Cal."

"Yeah. And it won't be forever-" he turns to look at Mo, "will it?"

"I don't see why if you continue like this."

Cal gives a satisfied smile and increases the treadmill again.

"Hey," Mo says, deftly reaching over and returning the machine to its previous setting. "It's not all about speed, you know."

"But I can do it."

"Sure you can, Usain Bolt, but I'm more interested in getting you to move your leg straight rather than dragging it to the side."

Cal feels the smile fall from his face. "I'm not," he says, uncertainly.

Mo ducks beneath the handrails and kneels on the plastic edge of the treadmill. He places his hands either side of Cal's thigh. "Okay, carry on walking, but I'm going to hold your leg at the angle it should be." He waits until he's taken a few steps. "Can you feel the difference?"

"Yeah," Cal says, reluctantly. He huffs.

"Keep going," Mo says. "I want you to concentrate on how that feels for now, then I'll let go and see if you can keep it up by yourself."

Cal trudges on, his leg even heavier than normal with the physio clinging on to it. He turns back to Doctor Moretti, trying to distract himself with conversation. "Fran, you never told me you knew Connie Beauchamp."

She lifts her head in surprise. "It never came up."

"But you know she's my clinical lead, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't you say?"

She laughs. "Why's this so interesting to you?"

"I just can't imagine the two of all as friends, that's all. You're so different."

"We're not friends exactly."

"You don't get on?"

"Stop fishing for gossip!" She shakes her head. "If you must know we met when I got drunk at an industry conference and she told me I represented all female doctors and was letting the side down. I'd only just moved to the country at that point and it was terrifying!"

"I can imagine," Cal says. He feels Mo release his leg and he looks down to watch his own steps.

"But at a later conference I saved her from the wandering hands of a senior consultant and we made our peace." She pauses. "She was a good cardiothoracic surgeon. I was surprised to hear she'd moved to emergency medicine. You know why?"

"You think Connie shares anything with us?"

She raises her eyebrows. "Then I probably shouldn't have told you that story."

"It's okay. It's something I can imagine me doing. The getting drunk part, I mean, not the wandering hands." He gives her a sideways smile. "Not without permission anyway."

She rolls her eyes. "Remind me never to drink with you."

Cal snorts but the amusement has faded. The muscles in his leg are beginning to ache from keeping at the new position and he reaches for the handrails. "What about you, Mo?" he says as a desperate attempt to focus on the conversation rather than the pain in his leg. "Ever embarrass yourself getting drunk with colleagues?"

"Nah, man, I don't drink. My body is a temple."

"He eats kale," Doctor Moretti says, as if that explains everything.

"It's good for you. Nico approves."

"My husband's a dietician," she tells Cal. "Last time he and Mo were in the same room they spent hours talking about superfoods. I got through three coffees while I was waiting for them to shut up."

"Only three?"

"Oh, it would have been more if they were G&Ts!"

"Fran, stop distracting him," Mo says. "Cal, concentrate. You've lost your positioning again."

Cal looks down at his legs. He gets what Mo is talking about but it feels as if he's been unnecessarily pernickety. He readjusts his leg but groans. "Can't we do something I'm good at?"

"What's the point in that?"

Cal knows it's a genuine question from Mo. He's the kind of person who's always trying to better himself and wouldn't understand the easy satisfaction of getting something right when he could be seeking self-improvement. That adds to his surprise when Mo leans across and terminates the treadmill. He slows his pace as it gradually grinds to a halt.

"I don't need a break," he says.

"You're not getting one! I want to work on some muscle strengthening exercises for your legs and hips." He frowns thoughtfully. "I'll see if I can borrow some equipment for you to take home too. That should help."

"Seriously? You've already got me doing hundreds of exercises every day."

"Then you'll barely notice a few more."

"I know he's a slave driver, Cal, but it'll be worth it."

Cal sighs. He manages the step down from the treadmill but while clinging to the edge. "Thought being back at work was a sign I was doing well!"

"It is," she insists.

Mo nods. "Yeah, mate, we wouldn't have sanctioned it if you weren't doing well. Your movement and strength has massively improved. It's about perfection now."

Cal pulls a face.

"Mock all you like but you'll be thanking me in the future." He pauses. "It's good for peace of mind too."

"You need to stop reading those self-help books."

"Reading them?" Mo says with a grin. "I'm going to write one!"

"I better get a dedication," Doctor Moretti interjects.

"I'll think about it. You know what the first line is going to be?"

"Enlighten me," Cal says.

"It is inadvisable to seek short term solutions without looking at the bigger picture."

Cal raises an eyebrow. "In other words?"

"You can walk _okay_ now. It would be easy to leave it at that, to cap the number of exercises I give you. But that just makes you feel better now, _in_ _the short term_. Persevering with physio may not be the way you want to spend your time but it'll reduce the likelihood of encountering problems in the future. You're not instantly satisfied, no, but the long-term outcome is improved."

Cal considers. For so long his aim was to get the point where he could work again. Now he's there, the goalposts have changed. While it's frustrating to learn he has further to go, he understand what Mo is saying; there's no point coming all this way and not being as good as he can be. He doesn't want to regret giving it a half-arsed attempt in years to come.

Besides, his physio sessions aren't all bad. He feels he has new friends out of Fran and Mo. And after losing an ally in Lily, that's something he could do with.


	17. Chapter 17

When I wrote this chapter I imagined it to be like an episode of Casualty, flitting back and forth between different patient storylines. I hope it works. I find the medical side of things tricky to write so apologies if anyone picks up on any inaccuracies. Lots of non-medical drama soon to come!

If you have time to leave a few words for me in a review I'd really appreciate it. Thank you for reading :)

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Thanks for reviewing and the reassurance, I'm so pleased you're still enjoying this. I'm glad you liked that final scene, I had fun writing it and creating them as characters. Hope you enjoy the update. More drama as to be expected! Thanks again.

* * *

 **17.**

* * *

Cal drags himself out of bed. His alarm went off thirty minutes ago and, two snoozes and a risky nap later, he finally feels prepared for the day. He's supposed to get up before Ethan because he takes longer in the mornings, partly because of his leg but mostly because of the length of time to get his hair gelled in the perfect _I-woke-up-like-this_ style, and yet he can already hear his brother pottering about in the kitchen. He secures his leg in the prosthesis and dawdles towards the smell of toast.

Ethan's at the kitchen table, already in a shirt and smart trousers, squinting at some wordy looking article on his phone. Cal would put money on it being medical journal. His little brother's always been endearingly nerdy, from reading textbooks for fun while he was at school to the extra-curricular studies at university that he always seemed to preoccupied with when Cal turned up unannounced and needing a favour. Not much has changed over the years but, these days, when he bothers to ask Ethan what he's reading, it almost always relates to their profession.

Cal pauses in the doorway and watches as his brother finishes reading and removes his glasses, polishing them on a handkerchief seemingly from muscle memory as he's let his eyes drift shut.

He's unable to resist the opportunity. "Morning, Nibbles!" he yells across the room.

Ethan jumps violently. He glares at Cal and then returns his glasses with a vicious shove, as if improving his own vision will make Cal see the look on his face clearer too.

Cal only grins. Ethan, so careful and meticulous about everything else, treats his glasses like they are disposable. He's lost count of the amount of pairs that have broken.

"You made me jump," Ethan says, unnecessarily.

Cal takes the seat opposite. "Couldn't have you drifting off."

Ethan has a coffee ready and waiting for him and he pushes it across the table towards him with a look of resignation. "Not that you deserve it but here you go."

"Thanks, bro." He takes a noisy slurp. He supposes the temperature of it would burn many people's mouths but he's too used to it to care. "Looking forward to another day of bumps and bruises and getting sneezed on?"

Ethan slowly returns his own coffee to the table. "You know I'm working in Resus today, don't you?"

Cal's chest clenches. He's worked alongside his brother every shift since his return to work. "Oh," he says. "Who's in cubicles with me then?"

"Lily."

He knows from the way that Ethan says it, the slight inflection at the end of the word, that he's forcing the casualness of his tone. It's the giveaway that proves his brother is more than aware that he won't want to work with her.

"But you'll swap, right?" Cal says.

"I- um, I don't think Mrs Beauchamp would allow it."

"She doesn't need to know."

"She'd find out. She knows everything!" Ethan leans forward across the table, his palm on the work surface, edging towards Cal. "It's not like you need me. You've been managing fine on your own."

"I know I have, thank you, Ethan," Cal snaps.

"I wasn't patronising-"

"Good."

Ethan takes a sip of his coffee and Cal knows he's playing the waiting game, staying silent until Cal can't help but break it. It's an old trick of his, one which is as annoying now as it was when they were teenagers.

"Stop it, Ethan," he mutters. "You know why I don't want to work with her."

"I know it's hard but I can see she's getting upset by your treatment of her."

"You're worried _she's_ upset?!"

"Yeah," Ethan says. He gives a firm nod but his expression remains uncertain. "And I'm worried about you. Harbouring this anger towards her isn't healthy."

"I don't care."

"Well I do!"

"You can't just make me drinks and drive me around and say you care, Ethan." He pushes his half-drunk mug of coffee back towards his brother. "You're meant to be on my side regardless. That's what decent brothers would do."

"Caleb, I'll always be on your side but that doesn't mean turning a blind eye if I think you're in the wrong."

He recoils. "In the wrong?"

"Cal-"

"What's she said?"

"Nothing. But I've seen her." Ethan pauses and a sigh escapes between barely parted lips. "She looks close to tears every time you're near. That's not like the Lily we know, is it?"

"Guilt."

"She saved your life, Cal."

Cal's gaze shoots to his brother's. He stares at him incredulously. It still hurts to think that he nearly died but hurts even more to hear his brother throwing it at him in an argument. He climbs to his feet and clings onto the table, shaking his head in response to Ethan's statement. _Take it back_ , he thinks.

But Ethan just sits there, unblinking, eyes pleading with him to back down. Cal can't. His brother may think it's simple; Lily got his heart beating again so that should exonerate her from everything else that happened that day. He can't see it like that. He's left with the reminder of what she stole from him in the process of saving his life.

"Please, just try to remember that," Ethan says.

Cal's eyes narrow. He considers spitting a retaliatory insult, something that will make his brother feel bad. But instead, he does what he thinks is the adult thing, and leaves the room without replying. He makes it as far as his bedroom before he's overcome with a burst of anger. _Screw maturity_ , he thinks, and slams the bedroom door.

He's forced to swallow his pride approximately twenty minutes later when Ethan knocks on his door and announces it's time to leave. In the days before his accident, they would travel separately after an argument, even if they were going the same route at the same time. But now Cal can't drive and it's not like he has spare money for a taxi lying around.

The journey is painfully silent. Cal fiddles with the car radio. Usually he would aim for a station playing good music but today he settles for news, letting a stranger fill the gaps where their conversation should be. He doesn't listen to the reporter. He's too busy replaying the conversation they had earlier.

Ethan parks the car and turns to face him, concern written between the creases of his brow. But before he has the chance to speak, Cal shoves the door open and climbs out. He doesn't want to talk to Ethan. The only problem is, his brother's heading the same way he is.

They end up in the staffroom, just the two of them, the door shut. Cal goes straight for the kettle, still sore he'd rejected most of the cup Ethan had given him earlier in favour of making a point. Even with his back turned, he can sense his brother is lurking awkwardly just behind.

"Can we clear the air before our shifts start?" Ethan says.

"Is that an apology?"

Ethan hesitates. "I didn't consciously say anything wrong. But if-"

"Forget it, Ethan." Cal cuts him off. He knows his brother will gladly say the words just to make him feel better, but he doesn't want to hear it. It's easier to stay in a mood. "You clearly think I'm a terrible person."

"What makes you say that?"

"I mean, we're _doctors_. It isn't even a big deal. Why should I be grateful that she did her job?"

"You're talking about Lily?"

Cal scoffs. He gives his brother a scathing look he's sure is worse than any retort.

Ethan sighs deeply. "I'm not suggesting you need to be grateful. I just think you could cut her some slack."

"Because she-" It sticks in his throat as he says it, "- _saved my life_?"

"Well, yeah."

"No."

"Caleb, she-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Ethan." He turns back to the work surface and pours the boiling water into a mug. He's rough with the kettle and water slops over the side. Behind him, he can practically hear his brother's brain ticking as he tries to find something to say. "Still here?" he snaps.

"Fine," Ethan says. "But we'll talk about this later when you're in a better mood."

Cal pulls a face at the wall.

He stays in the staffroom long after Ethan has gone, drinking his coffee and sulking. He knows he's late for his shift but he deliberately takes his time changing into his scrubs, wanting to see if Lily reprimands him for his tardiness.

On the ward, he stares at Lily, waiting until her eyes meet his and then he raises his eyebrows expectantly. She looks away, down at the file in her hand, and says nothing. He grunts. The Doctor Chao of before would have demanded an explanation for his lateness. She's treating him differently now. He wonders if letting him off the hook is her way of alleviating her guilt.

"Cal, where have you been?"

He turns to see Charlie. He gives a dramatic shrug. "Debating whether I felt like working today," he says, loudly.

"Right, well, however you _feel_ , there's an injured little girl in there waiting for her doctor."

Cal looks over his shoulder to check Lily's listening. Her head is buried in a patient's file but her eyes are on fixed spot rather than reading. "Wouldn't want to let my patient down," he says. "Besides, there's a nasty odour out here."

Charlie places a tight grip on his arm and steers him towards the cubicle. "That was uncalled for," he says.

"Don't you start!"

"Lose the attitude," Charlie tells him. "You can tell me what's wrong later but I'm worried about this child's ankle. We take care of that first."

"Fine," Cal says, sulkily.

"I hope you cheer up before tomorrow!"

Cal scowls as he remembers Charlie's stag-do is the following day. He's been looking forward to it, having helped Max get VIP entry into several nightclubs in the area. Now, all he can think about is being trapped with his brother, first in a minibus and then in the hotel room they were meant to be sharing.

Rather than replying, he pushes the cubicle curtain aside and tries to fix a professional smile on his face. His patient is a young girl, painted in stage make-up, with elaborately platted blonde hair and her mother's jacket draped over a leotard. Her cheeks are streaked with tears and her fists are tightly clenched.

"Eden," Charlie says. "This is Doctor Knight."

Her wide eyes turn to him. "Please fix my ankle," she says desperately. "I have a gym competition next week and I need to win."

* * *

Ethan lingers in the corridor. It's been months since he and Cal last argued and yet he feels more shaken by it than when they were fighting daily. He knows his brother has never liked being told what to do but he'd thought Cal would just need gentle encouragement to see things from another perspective. Him being alive is more important than anything else.

The staffroom door remains shut and Ethan sighs. The part of him that is a little brother first and foremost, almost drags him back to Cal. He wonders if he should try a different tactic, comfort rather than reasoning. But he has a job to do. He has other people's brothers and sisters and parents and children to save. He gives a final sigh and heads into Resus.

He's hit with a wall of noise. It focuses him. He looks between the two crowded trolleys trying to establish where he's needed. He can't see much for the amount of staff around the beds, but both patents look elderly, bloody and critically ill.

"Ethan, I could do with a hand?"

He hurries towards Alicia. She has her hands firmly pressed against her patient's neck and an alarm indicates she is in VT.

"She's at risk of haemorrhage," Alicia says. "We're still waiting on theatre. I I- don't…"

"Okay," he says. He manages to keep his voice calm and reassuring through years of experience but his heart is pounding; he's only performed the procedure he has in mind once before. "I need to tie the artery."

"You think you can?"

"I can try," he says. Duffy slips a plastic apron over his head and he accepts the gloves from her. "Full history, please."

"Okay, Joan is 70. She was the passenger in an RTC that occurred at approximately 8.15 this morning. She wasn't wearing a seatbelt and was thrown through the windscreen sustaining multiple lacerations as you can see. She was stable when she got here but self-extracted the shard of glass in her neck in an attempt to get to her husband." Alicia shudders at the memory. "Obviously that has caused major blood loss but also she is on warfarin after developing a pulmonary embolism about eighteen months ago. No other health conditions." Alicia takes a deep breath. "She went into VT just before you arrived."

"Thank you." Ethan chances a look at the patient Dylan is working on. "Is that her husband?"

Alicia nods grimly. "According to Joan, Robert fell unconscious while driving and that caused the crash."

Ethan can't help but feel intrigued. If he were the doctor, his first steps after stabilising the patient, would be to uncover the reason behind his loss of consciousness. But he knows he has to focus on his own patient and so he clears all other thoughts from his mind.

"We need a clamp and suction," he tells Duffy. He turns to Alicia. "When I say, I need you to release pressure and apply suction instead. I'm going to clamp the artery and then suture." He takes a deep breath. "We won't have long."

She's wide eyed and he's thrown back to months ago in the cave when he'd had to talk her through a different, but similarly complex, procedure.

"Okay?" he asks.

"Okay."

He tightens his grip on the clamp. "Release pressure."

As soon as lifts the wadding, blood spurts up at them. He feels droplets hit his chin but thankfully none have landed on his glasses to obscure his vision. The wound is pooling in crimson blood and it takes him a few attempts to locate the artery. He clamps just beneath the laceration and is relieved when the monitor stops wailing. Even after years in the E.D. it's still harder to think clearly among the noise of alarms.

"I need the suture kit," he says.

Duffy's already has it prepared and hands it over calmly.

"More suction, Doctor Monroe." He squints at the wound. The blood is slowly stopping. His hand is steady as he approaches with the suture and he manages to tie it with ease that surprises himself. "Okay. I'm going to unclamp." His eyes flicker to Alicia's. "If I've not done this properly we'll know about it."

"I'm sure you've done it perfectly."

He shakes his head. She misunderstood; he's not fishing for compliments, he just knows they need to be prepared for another bleed. "Have the swabs on standby," he says. "Just in case."

He waits for her to nod before slowly releasing the clamp. He holds his breath. He counts to three and then to five. There's nothing. No bleeding. He checks the monitor and, satisfied, allows a shaky smile.

"Told you," she says. "Perfect."

"Um, thank you," he replies. "Can you chase theatre? That will need tidying up."

He dresses the wound and permits himself a spare two minutes to wipe and sanitise his blood-splattered chin before returning to his patient's side. He's relieved to see she's still stable.

Alicia joins him. "She's got her theatre spot," she says. "Ten minutes."

"Good." He pauses. "You did well."

She squeezes his arm. "Says you! That was impressive, Ethan!"

He feels his cheeks flush but he's not sure if it's from the compliment or the contact. He reminds himself of his own proclamations; they wouldn't work, they're not well matched. And yet he can't tear his eyes away from hers.

Dylan clears his throat. "My patient is enquiring about your patient. What can I tell him?"

"We'll do it," Alicia says, speaking for both of them.

Dylan shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Alicia steers him towards the patient. He's flat on his back, skin pallid and an oxygen mask over his mouth, but his eyes are wide and alert as he waits for news.

"Hello," Alicia says, breezily. "Robert, isn't it? We're the doctors that have been treating your wife."

Ethan notices Robert's hand creeping towards the oxygen mask and he quickly answers the question before he gets as far as removing the mask to speak. "She's stable," he says. "She sustained an arterial laceration from a shard of glass. We've stemmed the bleed but she will need surgery."

Robert's eyes fill. "Will she be okay?"

"We'll know more once she's out of theatre," Ethan says. "But all indications so far are positive. Please try not to worry."

"My fault."

Ethan hesitates, unsure how to answer. He's grateful when Alicia squeezes Robert's hand and gives him a kindly smile.

"Blame isn't important, is it? We're going to get you both better first."

Roberts attempt to free himself of his oxygen mask finally succeeds. "I love her," he says in a wheeze. "I need to tell her. Just in case."

Ethan feels Alicia's eyes on him. It's his call. He turns his head to the side, a half shake.

"Ethan, come on," Alicia whispers. "What harm can it do?"

He knows the answer to that could potentially be a lot of harm. Patients as ill as Joan and Robert shouldn't be moved unless they had to. But he knows there's a chance Joan won't make it out of theatre and he can remember being in a similar position, months ago, Cal unconscious and critical and him longing for one more conversation.

"Okay," he breathes.

"Before Dylan gets back?"

"That's a given."

They wheel Robert's trolley into position alongside his wife. He takes her hand in his and her eyes flicker. She doesn't try to speak.

"Oh, my darling," he says. A single tear slips down his cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispers. "I never meant to… I don't know _why!_ " He strokes his thumb across her cheek, his other hand clasping hers. "Please get better, Joan, Sweetheart. I love you. I always have."

* * *

The X-Ray doesn't take long to examine and the outcome isn't a surprise. Cal beckons Charlie and together they return to the cubicle.

Their young patient, Eden, is on the bed, learning against her mum. Her hair is now unplaited and the way it falls around her face in waves makes her look much younger than she had before.

"Okay," Cal says. "I've taken a look at the X-Ray. I'm afraid the ankle is definitely fractured."

While her mum gives a resigned nod, Eden's widen and she struggles into a sitting position.

"What does that mean?" she asks.

"It means you'll need a plaster cast." He pauses. "And no gymnastics. For a minimum of six weeks."

Eden audibly gasps. Her eyes dart from Cal to her mum and back again. "But the competition is next week!"

"I'm sorry," Cal says. "Competing will have to wait."

Eden throws herself back against the pillows. "But that's not fair," she wails. "Mum!"

Her mum looks up at Cal apologetically. "Is there nothing that can be done?"

"It's a broken ankle," he tells her. "It heals at its own rate."

As Eden begins to cry in big gulping sobs, Cal feels a muscle twitch in his jaw. A broken ankle is nothing, really. He's treated dozens during his time in the E.D.

"I've worked so hard," she splutters, "and now Ava Porter's going to win and everyone will want to be her friend not mine."

"They'll still be your friends," her mum soothes, "they'll see what a lovely, hard-working girl you-"

"You don't get it," Eden sobs. "It's not _fair_!"

Cal swallows deeply and reminds himself that she's just a child. It's understandable that, at nine, a broken ankle and missed competition feels like the end of the world. He knows it's better than the opposite; kids that have experienced too much too young.

"Oh, baby, I know," her mum says.

"You can choose what colour cast you have," Cal suggests. The tactic has worked on other emotional children before. "And everyone can write things on it."

"I don't care. I don't want a cast." She gives a hiccupping sob. "Why did this happen to _me_?"

Cal flinches. The words are so familiar yet he can't comprehend how these circumstances warrant them. He's hit with a blast of bitterness. The dark thoughts from after his accident are never far from the surface but this time he has to turn away to mask his emotions.

He pretends to be adjusting the cubicle curtain; it's pointless, but he can't think of any other guise. He frowns furiously at the blue folds of material. A broken ankle is a blessing. He'd have loved one in comparison to what he got. And if she wasn't just a child, he'd be making sure she knows exactly how lucky she is.

He takes a deep breath and manages to turn to Charlie. The nurse gives him that knowing, concerned look of his. Cal scrunches his nose and hopes Charlie knows better than to pursue it.

"Can you, uh, arrange for the leg to be plastered?" he asks, darting from the cubicle.

The ward is busy with both staff and patients and yet Cal feels far less claustrophobic out there than he did in the cubicle. He releases the breath he's been holding. But his relief vanishes as he sees Lily appears from the adjacent cubicle.

"Doctor Knight, there's a lot of noise coming from your cubicle," she says. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," he snaps. "It's just a kid crying."

"Is there any reason you aren't with her?"

Cal feels as though she's punched him in the stomach. "Seriously?" he manages to choke out. "Who are you to question my treatment of a patient?"

"I'm in charge of cubicles today. I was curious. That's all."

He shakes his head. He can feel heat burning behind his eyes.

"Doctor Knight?"

"It's just a broken ankle," he hisses. "Charlie's with her. She's fine."

He pushes past her and makes it as far as the nurse's station before anger overtakes him and he slams his hand on the desk. An agency nurse looks up in alarm.

"Cal."

Lily's voice is unusually soft but he's past the point of being placated.

"What?"

"Can we go somewhere private?"

"Why?" Cal asks. He realises his voice is loud but he doesn't care. "Got something to hide?"

"I just thought we could talk," she says, her volume in stark contrast to his. "Try to come to a resolution."

"Over what?" he demands.

Lily's gaze drops to the floor. Her lips tremble as she struggles to find the words.

"You can't say it, can you?" he accuses. He grabs the nearest file, not knowing which patient it belongs to. "Anyway, I'm busy. I'm actually trying to _help_ people."

He leaves before she can stop him.

* * *

Bay two is empty now, Joan having been taken to theatre. Ethan thinks it always feels strange once the treatment of a critical patient has finished. From urgency and frantic bodies and wailing alarms to nothing. It's like the aftermath of a storm.

He joins Alicia at Robert's bedside. His condition has stabilised now but his face remains pale from worry, his wounds a stark contrast in red.

"Robert was just about to tell me how he and Joan met," Alicia says by way of greeting.

"Oh, yes?"

"We were young," Robert says, "And foolish. At least I was." His eyes flicker shut and he looks wistful as he remembers. "My father had a contact who was the owner of a successful business in London. So at eighteen I was whisked off to the City. Lived in a tiny room in a boarding house, spent most my wages on rent and the rest I sent back to my family."

"Did you enjoy it?" Alicia asks. Ethan can tell she's already enthralled by the story.

"Enjoying it didn't come into it," Robert says. "It was work. It was what I had to do. But it wasn't all bad, I made some good friends and the London lifestyle gave me experiences I hadn't had before."

"I love London," she says. "Shopping, shows, cocktails…" she gives a cheeky grin. "I bet that was where you met Joan?"

Robert shakes his head. "In 1965 my father died. I was permitted an absence of leave and so I returned to the West Country for his funeral and to look after family affairs. I was now head of the family." He pauses and looks at both of them in turn. "Now, I don't want you thinking I was heartless, I did grieve for my father. But in the village at that time, someone who worked in the City was quite a novelty. I felt famous. I was only 21 and it went to my head."

Ethan can see where this is going. "Cue Joan?"

"Cue Joan," Robert confirms. "Her family had moved into the village while I was away. As soon as I laid eyes upon her, I knew she was the one for me. Of course, there were beautiful women in London, but none quite like Joan. She seemed exotic to me with her northern accent, and I to her; she could scarcely imagine visiting London let alone living there." He pauses. "We first met at my father's wake. She offered her condolences and I, in turn, offered to take her to the village dance the following night."

"What happened?" Alicia asks eagerly.

"We danced all night," he said. "Didn't stop until the lights came on. And then I walked her home and we couldn't stop talking." He winks at Ethan. "She let me hold her hand."

Alicia wiggles her eyebrows at Ethan. "You devil!" she says.

"Things were different back then," Ethan reminds her.

"Oh, they were," Robert says. "I didn't even get a peck on the cheek until our sixth date. But that was the courteous way to do things and it didn't matter to me if we took our time. We were falling in love. We had the rest of our lives to do everything else."

"That's so sweet," she says.

"But then," Roberts says, "I received a letter from my old boss back in London. I had been away from the business for too long and he issued me with an ultimatum, either return immediately or my contract would be terminated."

"But you stayed with Joan, right?"

"I tried to convince her to come with me. I didn't want to lose her but I couldn't afford to lose the job that gave me both money and stature." His shakes his head sadly. "Her mother was of weak-composition and Joan was her only carer. She told me she couldn't leave her."

Alicia gives a sympathetic smile. "Long distance relationships are hard even now!" she says. "I don't know how you managed it before FaceTime!"

Ethan looks at her curiously, wondering who the relationship was with that has given her such an experience. It surprises him that his chest aches at the thought of her with someone else.

"My pride was hurt," Robert says. "Remember, I told you I was foolish back then. I felt if she loved me as much as loved her, she would come with me." He looks down and picks at the plaster holding his IV in place. "I ended things with Joan and returned to London alone."

The room falls silent for a moment.

"So, how-?" Ethan prompts.

"I thought I would never see her again," Robert says. "I courted other women but no-one ever came close. I remained a bachelor throughout my career and tried to conceal the sadness by living a lifestyle of luxury. I had money but not happiness."

"And Joan?" Alicia asks.

"She married five years after I left her." Robert gives a heartbroken sigh. "That's why I can never forgive myself. Her husband was awful to her. I can't bear to say the words but I'm sure you've seen enough working here to understand what I'm talking about."

Alicia's face falls. "That's awful."

"My Joan didn't deserve that."

"No, of course not."

"But," Robert says. "Years later I was sent on a business trip to Holby and who did I stumble upon but Joan! Following her divorce she had moved to Holby to be closer to her daughter in Bristol." He smiles. "I took her for dinner and that very evening I decided I was never leaving her again."

"Aww!" Alicia clasps her hands to her chest. "I'm so glad it got a happy ending."

"As long as she gets through today," he says.

"She will, won't she, Ethan?"

Ethan hesitates. He knows better than to make false promises. "She's in good hands," he concedes.

Roberts nods. "The last twelve years have been the best of my life but I still regret walking away from her. Particularly on days like these. If she…" He takes a shaky breath then tries again. "If this is it, it'll make the pain of all those missed years even greater."

Ethan can feel Alicia's eyes upon him, waiting for him to speak. It's hard to know what to say when the only thing that can reassure Robert is Joan being safely out of theatre.

"I'm sure you have lots of great memories," he says instead.

"Oh, yes," Robert says. "Lots. But also a lot of wisdom that I learnt the hard way! Are either of you two married?"

They shake their heads.

"Both single," Alicia says, her eyes darting towards Ethan.

"Well, you're still young but let me tell you, when you meet the one, you'll know about it. And it's at that point you do whatever you can to make sure you never let them go."

Ethan suddenly finds he can't look at Alicia. An image of her future forms in his mind; Alicia like Joan, rejected by the man who loves her only to fall into the arms of one who does not. He can't bear for Alicia to suffer as a consequence of his own hesitations.

Besides, he knows first-hand that life can be short. He's been in Robert's position before, waiting for news on Cal, feeling like his world is about to fall apart. He remembers how time had seemed to stop altogether. If Cal had died then, he knows he'd have regretted the wasted years where they barely spoke.

A chill runs down his spine. His own life is sure to be cut short. When the Huntington symptoms steal his life, will there be someone out there regretting time not spent with him?

He finds the courage to lift his head. Alicia's smiling at him and it sends a jolt of electricity through his chest.

* * *

An anguished scream rings throughout the E.D. Cal doesn't need to hear Charlie shout his name to know he's needed. He rushes to the cubicle, heart pounding.

Eden is on the floor, her bad leg twisted beneath her, the ankle clearly dislocated. He crouches as best as he can next to her. She's white and clammy and he knows where this is going next.

"Bowl," he says to Charlie. He gets it beneath Eden's mouth just in time. "What happened?" he barks at her mum.

"She wanted to prove she could walk."

"And you let her?!"

"I-"

Eden whines and Cal's attention is drawn back to his young patient.

"You're going to be fine, Eden, okay?" he says. "But I need to get you back on this bed so I can have another look at your ankle. Don't try to do it yourself, I'll lift you."

With Charlie's help, they get her settled back onto the trolley. Her breaths are falling as panicked sobs but Cal's first glance at her ankle reveals that emotional support can't be his priority. The bone is bulging under her skin. Her toes are white.

"Eden," he traces a finger up the base of her foot. It's cold. "Can you feel that?"

She shakes her head.

"Okay. Wiggle your toes for me."

Nothing happens. Cal feels a surge of panic stick in his throat.

"What's wrong with her?" her mum asks.

Cal ignores her to speak to Charlie. "We need to relocate it. Now," he says. "Can you get her some Entonox, please?" He turns back to her mother. "Uh, Eden's ankle is badly dislocated and that's stopping blood travelling to her foot. I need to put the bone back in place."

"It hurts!" Eden cries.

"This will help with that," Cal takes the Entonox tube from Charlie and hands it to Eden. "This end goes in your mouth and you need to take big breaths from it." He waits as Eden tries. "Yeah, that's it, well done."

He travels back down the bed and takes another look at the ankle. Blood flow is severely compromised.

"Eden, I need you to be really brave for me, okay? I'm going to pull on your leg and it will feel a bit strange and probably a bit sore but it's really important I do it."

Cal bends so his head is level with Eden's foot. Charlie's already in place, firmly holding her knee still and so Cal doesn't wait any longer. He puts pressure on the joint. He tries to rotate it. The bone won't move. He hisses and tries again, silently pleading for this to work.

"Cal?"

"No, I can't." It's a struggle not to slam his hand on the bed.

"Shall I fetch someone? Complex dislocations often need two doctors, you know that."

Cal shakes his head. He knows who that _someone_ will be. "I can manage."

"If you're sure."

Cal takes a deep breath and tries again.

Eden screams.

Before he has a chance to remind her to suck at the Entonox, the cubicle certain is whisked open. He doesn't turn to see who by. His attention is stolen by Eden's foot which is growing colder by the minute.

"Is everything okay?"

It's Lily.

"Cal, you need some help," Charlie says.

He knows Charlie's right. If Eden's ankle isn't relocated soon she'll be in real danger of losing her foot. But it's for that reason he can't let Lily near her.

"Doctor Knight?"

"No!" Cal snaps. "Not you. Not with this." He looks at the injured limb in front of him and pictures it without the foot. His eyes prickle. "You're not performing any more unnecessary amputations."

"That's enough!"

There's another voice, different this time, one which sounds so furious Cal can't help but turn towards it. Mrs Beauchamp is glaring at him, her hands on her hips, eyes flashing with anger.

"My office. Now!"


	18. Chapter 18

This chapter continues from where the last chapter ended. Hope you enjoy it and, if you do, please leave a review. It doesn't have to be much but it has a huge impact. :)

 **Panic-at-casualty:** Ahh thank you so much. I'm glad it's understandable, but you're right, Cal being Cal, he's not going to handle things the best way. Thanks for your ongoing support, hope you continue to enjoy.

 **InfinityAndOne:** I'm glad it all seems to make sense, I had it planned from the start but sometimes I have so much going on I forget to drop the hints haha. Thank you so much for your kind comments, I'm glad you're still enjoying it and I really appreciate your feedback.

* * *

 **18.**

* * *

A hand gently touches the base of Ethan's back. He turns to see Alicia smiling at him. Her hand moves but only as far as his arm. He returns her smile. He hopes she never lets go.

"I've got some good news," she says. "Joan made it out of theatre. She's going to be fine."

"Really?" Ethan blows a sigh of relief. "That's excellent. Does Robert know?"

"I thought we could tell him together?"

"Yes, good idea."

"It's so romantic, isn't it? Fate brought them back together." She tucks a strand of hair behind her year. "All those years apart and they still loved each other."

Ethan looks into her eyes and wonders if he's imagining the question within them. "You believe in fate?" he asks.

"Of course. Don't you?"

"I suppose I'm a pragmatist," he says. "I believe actions have a greater impact than fate."

Teasingly, she pulls a face. "Yeah, but that's no fun, is it? Everyone likes to believe there's someone out there they're destined to meet."

"Do they?" Ethan asks, alarmed. He hopes Alicia's not still got her hopes set on some tall, dark, stranger whisking her away. He'd have no chance then. He's none of those things, for a start.

"Don't you?"

Ethan feels his cheeks burn. "Um, I- I don't… I mean, look at Robert and Joan." He says, latching onto an idea. "Maybe it was fate that brought them back together, but rather than waiting for fate, actions could have kept them together years before."

"Okay, you win!" Alicia rolls her eyes. She laughs but her hand lifts off Ethan's arm. "Don't think I didn't notice you dodging the question though!"

Ethan gives a nervous chuckle. "Shall we go and give Robert the news?"

"Come on then!"

She links her arm with his. Ethan thinks it can't look professional but somehow that's not enough incentive to pull away.

Robert looks up expectantly when they walk through the doors. When he sees the looks on their faces a small smile teases the edge of his lips.

"She's-?" he asks, his voice laced with hope.

"The operation was a success," Alicia tells him. "She's going to make a full recovery."

He takes a shuddering gasp and a single tear trickles down his cheek. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"It's our pleasure."

"You two, you're miracle workers." He dabs at his eyes. "I honestly thought…"

"We were just doing our jobs," Ethan says. "But I'm pleased she pulled through."

"Can I see her?"

"In a bit. Doctor Keogh will need to finish your treatment first." He pauses. "I imagine he'll admit you for observations overnight. We still need to get to the bottom of what caused you to lose consciousness in the car."

Roberts face drops again. "Do you think it's something serious?"

"I couldn't say," Ethan says apologetically. He feels awful for making Robert worry again but he always wants to be honest with his patients. "Look, I know a few of the guys who work upstairs on the ward. I'll put a word in, see if we can get you and Joan in nearby beds."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'd appreciate that."

Alicia treats him to a grateful smile. "Take care, Robert," she says.

* * *

Cal storms towards Mrs Beauchamp's office. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a few people, both staff and colleagues, watching him. He doesn't care. He can't. His brain feels like it's about to explode. The angry thoughts pulse inside his head, instantly bringing pain behind his eyes. He clasps his forehead with both hands. A growl escapes his throat.

But then, somehow, another thought fights its way between the rage. It's a slice of ice that melts away some of the red hot anger. He stops in his tracks. Connie nearly crashes into him.

He spins to face her. "I need to-"

"No," she snaps. "You need to get in my office and explain your appalling behaviour."

"Listen-"

"Don't you _dare-_ "

"It's my patient," he says, barely caring how much additional trouble he'll be in for talking over her. "Eden. She's only nine. She has a badly dislocated ankle, loss of circulation, needs relocating urgently." His words fall on top of each other and he stares desperately at Mrs Beauchamp, hoping she understood.

Her expression is softer now but she still remains in front of him rather than rushing to Eden's side. "Doctor Chao has taken over her care."

"She'll need help," he says. He frowns, knowing she'll misunderstand. "I- I don't mean-" he stammers. "Not because it's _her_. It's badly dislocated," he repeats. "It needs two doctors. That's why I- never mind." He tugs at his hair. "If it can't be me who treats her, that's fine, but just-" he groans, "just don't let her lose her foot. Please. Not because of me."

"I'll go and assist," Connie says. "Now, you." She jabs a finger in his direction. "Wait for me in my office. And _for heaven's sake_ pull yourself together!"

Cal waits just long enough to make sure Connie is heading towards Eden's cubicle before disappearing into her office. He throws himself into the spare chair. His eyes burn and when he presses his hands to them, his fingers come away damp. It's almost a relief now that he's been banished from the ward. He's lost enough dignity already; his colleagues don't need to see him crying too.

For lack of anything else to do, he tries to follow Connie's instruction and pull himself together. It's hard to relax though when his heart is still hammering against his chest. He scrunches his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. It makes no difference. His brain is still screaming.

He's not sure how much trouble he's going to be in but that's the least of his worries. He's been bollocked by Connie before and lived to tell the tale. Besides, having had since childhood what Ethan calls _an affinity for getting in trouble_ , he's got a good knack at blocking out the key part off a telling off. It had worked that time Connie had caught him sneaking a patient's daughter into the on-call room until she had forced him to go on a two-day unpaid professional boundaries course.

This time, it's even easier, as he has a genuine reason why he lost his temper. Lily has been goading him all day; following him around, checking up on his patients, asking to talk things over in private. It's inappropriate and cruel considering what she's already done to him. Surely even Connie will be able to see that.

He slumps backwards on the chair. His body feels weak now the adrenaline has left him. His eyes are heavy. He glances towards the door but there's no sign of Connie and no indication of what's happening with Eden. It all looks like a normal day in the E.D. He slides his phone from his pocket. The home screen is blank. His fingers work quickly as he unlocks the phone and loads his call history. Ethan is the majority of the recent entries. His finger hesitates over his brother's name, but then he remembers their conversations earlier in the day. He shakes his head. He's not calling Ethan if he's not going to be helpful.

The door clicks open and Connie strides through it.

Cal jolts upright. "How's Eden?"

She shuts the door behind her and turns to look at him. Her face is unreadable.

"We've relocated her ankle and restored circulation to her foot."

He gasps in relief. "Thank God!"

"Yes, well, it's not over yet. Paediatric orthopaedics will determine whether she needs surgery."

Cal nods. He knows it's not a simple resolution but her foot has been saved and that's enough for now. He couldn't have lived knowing he'd contributed to giving someone the same injury as his own.

But now that's over, he knows the conversation will turn to his own conduct. She's silent at first. He sits still, his shoulders tense as he waits for the moment she starts to shout. But instead she walks to the far side of the office and fills a glass with water. Cal wonders fleetingly why she gets a filter machine while the rest of the staff have to make do with tap water, but he accepts the drink as she hands it to him. He intends on taking as sip but ends up gulping down half the glass. He hadn't realised how thirsty he'd become.

"Thanks," he says, breathlessly.

"Welcome." She takes a seat at her desk and raises a single eyebrow. "So are you capable of coherent conversation yet?"

"Uh," he says, inwardly cringing at his earlier fluster. "Yes, Mrs Beauchamp."

"Then tell me, what the hell was that outburst about?"

"I was provoked," he says.

"Explain."

Cal frowns. He can't understand why it isn't obvious to her. What Lily did was unforgivable; he shouldn't need to elaborate. "You _know_ what she did."

"Something today?" she asks, playing innocent.

"No." He sags. He doesn't know why she's making him say it. "When- when the helicopter crashed."

"When she amputated your leg?"

His eyes sting. He nods.

"Okay," Connie says. "Alright. But you still have to work with her."

Cal blinks. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," she says softly.

He opens his mouth to reply but suddenly no words will come. He had expected an echo of the _she saved your life_ speech that Ethan had given him. Suddenly nothing makes sense. He can't tell if she's acknowledging his view or dismissing it, whether it means she cares less about Lily's feelings or his wellbeing, or whether it's only the hospital that matters to her. Carrying on as normal despite what happened is a perspective he's not yet considered and it hurts his already aching brain.

"Well?" she eventually prompts.

"I-" He rubs at his forehead. "I, uh, shouldn't have brought my personal grievances to work."

"No, you shouldn't have. And you particularly shouldn't have aired them in front of young and vulnerable patients."

"I'll apologise," he suggests. "To Eden and her mum, I mean."

"Oh, only if you like." Connie waves a lofty hand. "I don't think she's the type to lodge a complaint. Too soft."

"Right," Cal says, mentally adding a tally to the _Mrs B only cares about the hospital_ side of his internal debate.

"Besides, that's not my only concern."

"It's not?"

"Doctor Knight, I do have my staff's best interests at heart. I've told you that before. Not that you ever listen."

Cal invisible tally sheet begins to even out.

"I need an honest answer. You and Doctor Chao. Is there going to be a problem?"

"Not if she stays away from me." The reply was automatic.

She nods slowly "I thought you might say that."

"I don't see why I should have to work with her!"

"Because you're doctors in the same department. You can't pick and choose your colleagues."

Cal folds his arms across his chest. He's not replying to that. There's nothing to say. If someone inflicted life changing injuries on him through stabbing or shooting or running him over with a car, they'd be punished. Instead, she says _good morning_ to him and expects him to be civil if not nice.

"Okay," Connie says. She suddenly sounds impatient. "We can do this this the hard way if that's what you want."

He looks up. "What do you mean?"

"So." She holds up a hand and counts as she speaks, a finger at a time. "Late to your shift, bullying a colleague-"

"Oh, come on," he says, shaking his head. He's made the odd harsh remark, but that's not bullying, especially not when it's deserved.

She ignores him. "Unprofessional behaviour by chastising a colleague in front of patients, scaring said patient, abandoning-"

"You made me leave."

"Lack of respect towards authority."

"What?"

"Cal," she says. "If I wanted to I easily have enough merit to look at a suspension."

His breath catches in his throat. "Go on then," he says. "Do it."

"That's not what you want."

He shrugs. He supposes he should be grovelling, begging her not to suspend him, but it's rare his mouth actually listens to his brain.

"What have you done with the doctor who was begging me to sign the return to work documents?"

"Change of heart."

"I don't believe you."

He pushes himself upright in the seat. "Why would I want to be here when everyone's out to get me?"

"Is that really what you think?"

"No," he says, his voice small. "Not everyone. It's just- hard."

"What is?" she pushes.

"Being around her. It's like I can't forget. When she's there I-" he shakes his head, sighing. "No-one understands." He meets Connie's gaze but can't hold it for long. "It's not fair. She's fine and I'm, well, _not_."

"You're angry."

"I was a lot, at first." He rests his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands. "But then I got better. I'm okay. Mostly, I'm okay. But then I see her and she looks at me like she's scared of me, and I think how can she be scared when it's _her_ who did _that_ to me?" He pauses to take a breath. "You're right, it makes me angry. After what she did, and I'm being made to look like that bad one."

Connie doesn't reply at first and the silence leaves Cal's words hanging in the air. He stares at the floor, at his feet. He can see the subtle differences between them but he can't tell how obvious it is to an outsider. He doesn't know which way he'd prefer.

"It's not for me to tell you how to feel," Connie says. Her voice is soft, not stern. "But as your clinical lead I am obliged to tell you that if you want a future here, you need to find a way to work through those feelings."

"Why me?" he says. "Why do _I_ need to find a way? Why can't Lily find a way to put things right?"

"And how would you suggest she did that?"

Cal tilts his head to one side. He's obviously been around Ethan for too long because again he expected her comeback to match his brother's, to tell him Lily had done nothing wrong. "What do you mean?" he asks, buying time.

"How could she put things right?"

He considers. Nothing can undo what's already been done. An apology would be pointless. Help with his recovery would be condescending. "That's for her to figure out, not me."

"Perhaps she's at just as much of a loss."

"Perhaps."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"Well, I thought you were suspending me," he says.

She pulls a face. "You've already cost me a fortune in locum cover. I'll keep you for now."

"Great. So can I go?"

She holds out her hand to stall him. "Cal, wait."

He remains where he's sitting. Her response was so predictable he hadn't even tried to get up anyway. But her expression shows something he hadn't expected. Her lips are slightly parted, eyebrows angled upwards and a faint flush is creeping across her cheeks. If it was anyone other than Mrs Beauchamp, he'd interpret it as discomfort, awkwardness.

She clears her throat. "Have you had… any counselling?"

"I, uh, talk to my brother."

"Yes, but Ethan's not a trained counsellor."

"He's enough," Cal says defensively.

"I'm sorry but clearly not." She scribbles something into her diary. "I have a contact. I'll send a referral over by the end of the day."

"No, I-"

"That's non-negotiable." She straightens her shoulders; the old Connie's back. "As for today, go home."

"I'd rather stay."

"Look, you're in no fit state to work. You're not due back for a few days now anyway, clear your head, enjoy the break." She treats him to a rare smile. "I hear there's an important stag-do taking place."

He ignores the attempt at friendliness. "I can't get home until Ethan's ready to drive me," he says. "If I'm hanging around regardless I may as well do some good while I'm here."

"Well in that case, I have a shedload of paperwork. You can make a start on that."

Cal opens his mouth to argue but then he sees her face, serious and unblinking and realises that's his only option. He purses his lips. He'll accept it but that doesn't mean he's happy about it.

Connie retrieves a large pile of files from a cabinet and plonks them on to her desk. "Right, these are cases which breached the four hour rule this month. They need logging. All of them."

"Fine," he says sulkily.

He moves slowly to the chair the other side of the desk. It's as if his mental pain has worked its way through his body and to his leg, for nothing seems to co-operate. His back is to Connie and so he listens for the noise of the door indicating that she's gone. But when he's seated himself and facing forwards again, she's still there. Her hand is on the door but otherwise she shows no intention of leaving.

"You said that no-one understands," she reminds him.

"They don't."

"Remember, you weren't the only one who sustained life changing injuries that day." She pauses. "Maybe I don't get it completely, but I do understand the need to hold somebody accountable."

He can feel his heart pounding again. "You mean, with Grace?"

She nods. "I'm still making investigations. But one thing I'm certain of is that my daughter would not have incurred a brain injury had it been me treating her."

His eyes narrow as he thinks. He's sure Ethan told him Grace had been very close to losing her life but that Elle had somehow pulled her back from the brink. His first thought is surprise that Connie's not just grateful her daughter is alive.

But then he realises that's incredibly close to what Ethan's been trying to make him understand about his own situation. The thought sits uncomfortably with him and he's still speechless, gawping at Connie as she shuts the door and leaves him alone in her office.

* * *

Ethan finds Alicia in the staffroom. She's changed from her scrubs into her own clothes and her long hair is now loose. His chest flutters. She looks beautiful.

She greets him with a smile "How's your day been?"

"Good," he says. "Eye-opening."

"That sounds deep," she replies. "Thinking about Robert and Joan?"

He gives a nervous nod. "I suppose what Robert said resonated with me. The- the stuff about not wanting to look back and see what you could have had."

"I think he's right." She twirls the end of her hair between finger and thumb. "It's all about living life to the full."

"And taking chances."

Her hand stops moving. "What do you mean?"

"You know, not being held back by stupid concerns. Saying what you want to say. Telling the girl you have feelings for." There's an awkward pause. "That kind of thing."

"Right, well, who's the lucky woman then?"

He takes a step forwards. "Alicia-"

The staffroom door bursts open, clattering into the cupboard beside it with a crash. Ethan knows there's a permanent dent in it from the regularity of that happening. He'd once tried to put a poster up warning people to be careful, but Cal had taken it back down immediately and told him to stop being such a passive aggressive nerd. Today though, he's glad of the crash. It's the warning to stop talking before half his colleagues hear his, potentially disastrous, declaration of love.

As the room fills with people, Ethan looks around. No-one appears to realises they've interrupted anything. He's not even sure if Alicia does; she's busy greeting Robyn with open arms, as if they've not seen each other for months. At the back of the group, Ethan spots his brother, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, looking sheepishly at the floor. He tries to make eye contact but Max's head's in the way.

"Pub," Iain announces. "We're having a pre-stag for those of us who can't make Charlie's tomorrow."

"Or who weren't invited," Robyn says.

"You're a girl." Max pulls a face. "You can't come on a stag-do."

"That's sexist, isn't it Alicia?"

"Disgusting," she agrees.

"Anyway, I don't think you'd want to come," Max replies. "Not if you knew what we had planned."

Charlie shuffles into the room. "What's that?"

"Nothing!"

"Cal, you did pass on my instructions about strippers?" Charlie asks, looking concerned.

"What was it again, the more the better?"

"None! I asked for none!"

Ethan watches as his brother joins in with the laughter. Even from a distance, he can tell it's all for show. He wishes Cal would look at him, so he could at least offer a reassuring smile.

"Okay, let's go," Iain says.

They quickly filter out. Cal is one of the first to leave and Ethan wonders if he's avoiding him. He turns to retrieve his coat and when he turns back, he finds Alicia by his side.

He smiles at her in surprise. "Oh, aren't you going with the others?"

"I wanted to see what you were doing."

"Think I better save myself for tomorrow." He shrugs apologetically. "You go, if you want."

She shakes her head, smiling. "Do you fancy a quiet one instead?"

He finds himself nodding before he's even thought through his answer. "I have a bottle of wine back at mine?"

"Okay, great."

"Okay." He pauses and smiles awkwardly, not sure what she should do next. "Oh," he says. "Actually, I'd better just text my brother, let him know where I'll be. He taps out a quick message to Cal: _Have fun at the pub. I'm heading home, will see you later._ "Done."

"He survived Mrs Beauchamp's wrath then?" Alicia asks as they leave the building.

"Sorry?"

"Didn't you hear? She took him off shift and sent him to her office."

"No." Ethan frowns. "Do you know what happened?"

"Not sure. Something to do with a patient he and Lily were treating."

It does nothing to appease him to hear that Lily was involved. He remembers his conversation with Cal earlier in the day and sighs. He hopes his brother hasn't got himself in too much trouble.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a one word reply from his brother: _okay._ The reply, despite being brief, reassures him. He knows if Cal was particularly upset, or annoyed with him, he wouldn't bother to reply at all.

They reach his car quickly and he opens the door for Alicia. As he slides into the driver's seat it occurs to him that he's not driven her anywhere before. He's no more nervous driving than he is doing anything else, and yet he still feels a flutter in his chest as he starts the ignition.

She fiddles with the car radio without asking. At first he's glad that she's changing it from the drab conversation of the station Cal had chosen this morning to indicate he hadn't wanted to talk. But then she leaves it playing a dreadful pop song and he can't help but grimace. One of the few things he had in common with his brother was taste in music.

"Don't you like this one?" Alicia asks.

"Um, not especially," he admits. "But it's fine. If you like it, it's fine."

"It reminds me of my summer holiday after graduation," she says. "Four of us girls went to Ibiza for a last bit of fun before we had to start behaving like responsible adults."

"I've never been. What did you get up to?"

"It's Ibiza, Ethan! Partying! Dancing until the sun came up. It was ace," she says. "Although, I'm still surprised we all made it home in one peace. Especially that night Chlo disappeared." She pulls a face at the memory. "But, like I say, I've got that out my system now. This is the new mature Alicia."

"Is that so?" he teases.

"Shh, you! Just you wait until you've stopped driving."

He chuckles. "Is that a threat?"

"I'll leave that for you to decide." She smiles. The track ends and another starts. "So, where's your best holiday then?"

"I like Italy," he says. "Florence, Rome…"

"Oh, very cultured."

"You'd like it."

"Well feel free to whisk me away," she says. "I'm well overdue a holiday."

"I know that feeling."

"We can dream, eh!"

He gives her a quick smile before returning his eyes to the road. "You've not forgotten Robert already, have you? You have to _live_ life, not just dream it."

"In that case, don't expect me in work tomorrow!"

"I won't know if you do go AWOL," he says. "I'll be in Barry remember?"

"Of course. Charlie's stag do. Are you looking forward to it?"

"Um, I'm not sure." He raises one eyebrow. "Cal's planned most of it, which fills me with apprehension to say the least! Goodness knows what kind of establishments we'll end up in. Did you hear what Max said earlier?"

"Aw, it'll be a laugh," she says. "We're having Duffy's hen tomorrow night too, after work, but I can't imagine we'll be getting up to anything too wild. Just a few wines." She pauses. "It's nice to see them so happy though, isn't it?"

"It is."

"It's infectious."

Ethan just nods, unsure whether she's referring to the happiness or the romance.

Back at his flat, he takes his coat from her and hangs it up neatly beside his own. There's a beat of awkwardness which he solves by heading into the kitchen to fetch the wine. It's nothing special, the second cheapest option in the supermarket, but it's better than having to pilfer Cal's whiskey supplies.

He returns to the lounge and finds her already curled up on the sofa, looking much more comfortable at his house than he'd felt at hers. It pleases him to see her looking so at home; if his wishes come true, she'll be spending a lot of time here.

He passes her an empty glasses and fills it three-quarters full with the wine.

"Cheers," she says.

Their glasses chink together. He takes a large sip from the glass. It tastes nice but hardly strong enough to give him the soft courage of inebriation. He almost reconsiders the whiskey.

"Ethan," she says.

"Yeah?"

"Earlier, in the staff room, was there something you wanted to say?"

He freezes. He still wants to tell her but now that she's put him on the spot, he can't find the words. "Oh. Oh that. It- it was nothing. Not really."

"It didn't sound like it."

"Well, it's not _nothing_. Obviously. It's something. It's just-" He gulps at his wine. "I'm sorry, I'm terrible at this."

Her eyes are wide. "Terrible at _what_?"

He brings the glass back to his lips, another mouthful for luck. But he drinks too quickly and the wine dribbles down his chin.

Alicia laughs but it's soft not cruel. She brings her hand to his face and wipes away the liquid. Her thumb grazes his lip and it's all he can do not to kiss it. Instead, he places his own hand on top of hers. He takes a deep breath and gives a short, decisive nod as he finally commits to saying it.

"After talking to Robert, it got me thinking," he says. "About, um, missed opportunities and false starts." He places his glass down on the floor for fear of another accident. "You and I… we've had a lot of false starts. Well, no starts really."

She gives a breathy laugh that encourages him to continue.

"It- it's okay if you don't… reciprocate. But- um…" He pauses. Her eyes are fixed on his so intensely it almost hurts. "I like you Alicia. Really like you. And, if you let me, I want to make this the start of something wonderful."

He closes his eyes and waits to hear her reply. She's quiet for so long and he's about to crack open an eye when he feels soft lips press against his. She's gentle at first and he responds equally gently, memorising each taste and each texture as she kisses him.

They pull away. Their eyes open. Ethan floods with relief to see she's smiling at him. He's sure his own mouth has curved into a foolishly smitten grin.

"Okay?" he whispers.

"Yeah." Her hand falls at the side of his cheek. "Better than okay. I've wanted to do that for so long."

"You have?"

"Yes, you idiot, I have."

It's him who kisses her this time. It lasts forever but not nearly long enough. He's breathing her in. Nothing is there except her and him and the joy they've finally confessed to their feelings. And then, she's tugging his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and her bare hands are working their way up his abs. His own hands have found their way into her hair and it's not as soft as he'd expected but that didn't matter because it's Alicia. Alicia who's kissing him, touching him, and who's pulling her jumper over her head.

She shivers in just a thin strap-top and so he holds her against his chest, his hands flat against her back, so closer they're almost one person. Their lips move seamlessly against each other and it feels more familiar than Ethan ever could have imagined. They only draw apart when she sneaks her hands between them and starts undoing the buttons of his shirt one by one. He can barely breathe. She slips the material to the floor. He can feel her eyes on him.

"Are we really doing this?" she asks breathlessly.

"I-" He tries to shrug but his body's not working. "We-" He's never moved this fast with someone before but somehow it feels right. He just wants her lips back on his. "What do you want?"

"I want to," she says. "If you do."

Her hands are on his bare waist.

"I, yeah."

They kiss again and it's like the short time they stopped, starved them. He doesn't notice Alicia was on his lap until she's sliding from it, her hand in his, pulling him to his feet.

"Which is your room?" she asks.

* * *

The taxi driver takes the long route home. Usually Cal would dispute the elevated fare but on this occasion he decides he's had enough arguments for one day, and thanks him, albeit without a smile.

Even now, staring up at their block of flats, he doesn't regret his decision to leave the pub early. The evening had been okay. Charlie was smiling, Max and Jez behaved like a comedy double act, and Cal had drunk two beers, only one of which he'd had to pay for himself. But it had been exhausting on top of an already tiring day. There were only so many fake smiles he could produce while his mind was still on what happened with Lily and his near-miss with suspension.

And somewhere between the first and third sips of his pint, he'd become overwhelmed with a strong desire to talk to Ethan. He wasn't planning on a heart to heart but a few kind words wouldn't go amiss and his little brother was always good at pampering to his needs. He re-read the text Ethan sent him earlier and smiled. Ethan was the master of the silent treatment when annoyed so the communication proved he'd got over their disagreement from the morning. He sent another message in return: _Coming home. Will bring beers._ He'd then snuck out of the pub without anyone noticing and bought a six-pack from the nearest shop.

Now, Cal unlocks the door to their block and stairs at the options ahead of him. He hears Mo in his mind, instructing him to take the stairs every time for practice, but he's tired and it's not like the physio will ever find out. He hits the button on the lift and a familiar clunk signals it's moving down towards him.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out expecting to see Ethan's name on the screen. Instead, it's an expletive filled message from Iain whose just realised he's absconded from the pub. Cal chuckles and replies something equally rude. He's surprised his brother hasn't replied yet but there's not much point sending a follow up text now when he can speak to him in person in just a few seconds time.

The lounge is empty but all the lights in their flat remain on and Cal knows that's evidence Ethan is still awake. He's survived enough lectures about forgetting to turn them off when he's passed out drunk to know that his brother would never turn in for the night without turning of all possible power sources.

"Ethan?" he calls.

There's no response. He wanders into the kitchen but Ethan isn't there either. He dumps the beers on the worktop and fights his way into the packaging. As he takes his first swig he checks the notepad Ethan always leaves message on for him. It's empty, not even a reminder to take the bins out or stock up on milk. He shrugs and wanders back into the lounge, can in hand.

It's then he hears it. A small noise. The sounds of conversation. He nods. It all makes sense now; Ethan must be watching something on his laptop in his room. Cal grabs a second beer for his brother and heads towards his bedroom. He hopes Ethan's programme isn't too nerdy and then they can watch it together. It will be the perfect antidote to a challenging day.

He doesn't knock. Ethan has a bolt the other side of the door so he knows it'll either open or it won't. He pushes hard. It swings open. Cal stares. There's no mistaking that under the duvet are two bodies. He sees bare shoulders. The back of a blonde head moves closer to his brother's. He blinks. He knows who that is. He gasps loudly and drops a beer. It's the open one and it fizzes all over the floor. Alicia shrieks. Ethan tries to tug the duvet up above their heads.

Cal says "Oh shit," and scarpers.


	19. Chapter 19

I try not to start chapters with saying what I don't like about it in case it sounds like I'm fishing for compliments, but in the case of this chapter, I just wanted to explain a few things.

It's my interpretation of the stag-do, which was obviously a humorous episode. I have never written anything funny in my life. And I don't think I've started here haha. Angst is sooo much easier! Also, it does miss out quite a lot that happened in the episode, partly because it would end up about 4 chapters long but also because some of it e.g. the 'be more Cal' tattoo wouldn't really fit with my story (I've not mentioned be-more-Cal because I wasn't keen on that as a reaction to the Huntington's storyline but also because Ethan's been too busy trying to hold Cal together to really think about his own diagnosis).

So, I hope it is okay. Definitely not my best but I can't reread this any more! Better to put my spare time to writing the next installment, right?

Please let me know what you think.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Thanks for reviewing. Yep, Cal just wanted his brother but Ethan had other things planned. Can't pretend it wouldn't have happened the other way around hundreds of times haha. Hope the follow up satisfies your curiosity. Thanks again.

 **Pxnic-at-mxdnight:** Yeah, although as this will show Cal's just replaced one drama with another. Ethan, however, is certainly mortified. Not sure whether I'm brave enough to write the counselling yet, may just cheat and leave it at the odd reference as I'd hate to get it wrong. Thank you so much for your review and continued support.

 **Casfics:** Haha, I'm glad I made you happy. I love the brotherly banter, it's fun to write and there's lots of it in this chapter. Thank you so much for your kind review, it really means a lot.

* * *

 **19.**

* * *

"Why didn't you lock the door?"

"Why didn't you _knock_?"

It's the morning after and Ethan still feels an uneasy flush creep across his cheeks every time he remembers his brother walking in on him and Alicia in bed. They're both in their own rooms, getting ready for the stag-do, but their doors are wide open so they can trade insults while they pack.

"It's not like I expected you to have a girl in there," Cal retaliates. "You never bring anyone home."

"Exactly. I never do. And the one time I find someone who likes me, you have to go and ruin it."

"Oh, I ruined it, did I?"

"Yes, you did."

There's a crash and Cal curses. It sounds like he's knocked something over with his suitcase. Ethan doesn't offer to help.

"You told me you didn't like Alicia."

"No, I didn't," Ethan says.

"You did."

"I didn't," he insists. "I said we weren't well matched. But it turns out we fit very well together."

"Urgh. Spare me the sordid details."

Ethan pulls a face even though Cal can't see him. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

"No point being a prude again now."

"Shut up, Caleb."

"Why? You haven't even apologised yet."

"Me?" Ethan splutters in indignation. " _Me_ apologise? You were the one who barged in on us."

"I had to bleach my eyes out after that."

"You're the most inconsiderate person I've ever-" He breaks off, a sudden fear going straight to his chest. "Hang on, you didn't actually _see_ anything, did you?"

He hears something that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

"I swear, Caleb, if you're finding this funny…"

"What do you think I saw, Ethan?" Cal says. He definitely sounds amused.

 _Hopefully nothing_ , Ethan thinks but he doesn't say anything. He throws his smart shirt on top of his pile of clothes and immediately regrets taking his frustration out of it. It's become unfolded and susceptible to creases.

"Don't worry, Nibbles," Cal says. He must have paused mid-way through packing to peer around Ethan's doorway as he still has a pair of smart shoes in his hand. He grins. "You were both fully covered by the duvet. What I _heard_ on the other hand…"

Ethan's shoulders tense. He's almost certain Cal is joking now but the fact he's trivialising one of the most humiliating moments of his life makes his head boil. How can he stand there smirking when Ethan's ready to curl up in a ball and disappear? He clenches a fist. He knows exactly how to wipe that irritating smile from his brother's face.

"Why were you in trouble with Mrs Beauchamp?" he asks.

It has the desired effect. Cal's face drops. His forehead creases and he stares at the floor glumly as he rubs at the back of his head.

"I wasn't in trouble."

"Well, I know that's a lie."

"Who told you?" he demands. "Lily? Sticking her bloody nose in-"

"It wasn't Lily," Ethan says quickly. Even though Cal's annoying him, the last thing he wants to do is create more bad blood between his brother and his friend. "So, what did you do?"

"None of your business," Cal says.

"Oh, it's just- I didn't think we respected each other's privacy anymore."

Cal rolls his eyes. "Stop being a moron."

"Don't call me that."

"Why? You're acting like one. You're taking this way too seriously."

"Too seriously?" Ethan scoffs. "Just because I only sleep with women who matter to me."

"Oh, so you did have sex with her then? I thought you were being this narky cos I stopped you getting laid."

Ethan scowls. There's no way he's telling his brother it happened well before he walked in. "Grow up, Cal," he snaps.

"You're the one who's acting like a teenager with their first crush."

Ethan hisses. His resilience finally shatters. "You know what, this conversation's over. Get out my room. I honestly don't know why I bother with you."

He sees a glimmer of hurt in Cal's eyes before his face hardens.

"Fine," Cal spits. "I'll go. But a word of advice bro, change your bedsheets."

Before Ethan can sense what's about to happen, the shoe in Cal's hand is pelted across the room towards him. He dodges and it misses him, but only just. He's not sure whether the comment or the missile annoys him more.

He grabs the shoe and scrambles towards the door on his hands and knees. Cal's still in the corridor and so he retaliates, flinging the footwear towards his brother. Ethan's aim has always been bad but somehow, something is in his favour. The shoe clobbers Cal in the back of his head.

His hand flies to the area and he spins to face Ethan. "Ow! You prick!"

"You threw it at me first."

"Yeah, but not when your back was turned!"

"Nothing you didn't deserve."

* * *

Cal stares out of the window of the moving minibus, glaring at the passing traffic as though it had personally insulted him. His head still hurts from where Ethan hit him with a shoe. Of course, his brother _has_ lashed out at him before. But that was usually when he'd done something really bad, not just walked in on two floating heads above a duvet. It was funny. Or at least it had been until his own shoe had been used as a weapon against him.

Ethan is acting as if he's over it. He's swigging from a beer can, entertaining the others with stupid jokes and nodding along to the hideous music that someone, probably Noel, has put on the radio. Cal knows better. He knows his little brother only gets drunk when he's got something he doesn't want to think about. They're not unlike in that respect, only there are several other reasons Cal turns to drink as well.

And one of those is a ready supply of booze. He leans across the aisle and slips his hand into the large cool-bag Max has brought with him. There are several brands in there but they're all beers and Cal's only fussy when he's got someone to impress. His hand clamps on the nearest can and he tries to extricate it without being noticed. He's almost succeeds but then the sharp edge of a hand canes down on his wrist.

"Oi," Max says. "I am the supplier. No alcohol without consent."

"Then give me consent."

Max only retains his stern expression for seconds. "Oh, go on then. Only because I can't bear that sulky little face." He reaches over and pinches Cal's cheeks. "Honestly, you and your brother are going to drink me dry."

Cal opens the can and takes a large sip before Max can change his mind. "Ethan's had more than me, you know. Perhaps you should think about restricting his access."

"Yeah but Ethan's a much funnier drunk than you."

"Hey, I'm funny!"

"I wouldn't know," Max says. "We barely see you on nights out before you disappear off with some woman."

Ethan snorts.

"I don't know what you're finding so amusing," Cal says to his brother. "I'd rather _disappear_ with them than the opposite. If you know what I mean."

From the way his brother's ears turn pink, Cal's sure he understood. He takes a satisfied slurp of beer. It fizzes into his stomach and doesn't give him the enjoyment it usually does. He's sure that's Ethan's fault somehow too. His brother turns away from him and Cal glares at the back of his head.

"Hang on," Max says. "Have you two fallen out again?"

There's a pause. Cal considers replying but he's not sure what the answer is. Fallen out makes them sound like they're children again, arguing because Cal stole Ethan's toy, or teenagers, because Cal was smoking and Ethan told their mum. Of course, there's the times he doesn't like to think about, like when his brother nearly disowned him for stealing, lying, keeping secrets. But now, they're both annoyed, yes. But they've not _fallen out_.

"Yes, we have," Ethan says.

Cal splutters. "What?"

"Oh, come off it, Caleb. You know why."

Max leans closer. "What did you do this time?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Why do you assume it's me? He's not as innocent as he looks."

"Just spit it out."

"Well," Cal says, "seeing as you asked-"

"Cal, don't!" Ethan whips round to face him so fast his glasses slip down his nose.

"Why not? I don't owe you any favours if we've _fallen out_."

"You _could_ try making it up to me. Except, it's not like you to repent, is it?"

"Repent?" Cal takes a sip of his beer, trying to act casual as he knows Max is watching. "What is this, sixth century bible class?"

"Just apologise!"

"No!"

Ethan takes a deep breath and holds it. His eyes burn into Cal. Eventually exhales deeply and gives a short nod. "We're here for Charlie," he says. "I'm not going to ruin it for him by arguing with you."

"And you think I would?" Cal replies.

Ethan raises his eyebrows.

"Fine." Cal slumps to the back of the chair. He hates that Ethan won that stage of the argument but he hates even more how his brother used Charlie to do so.

For lack of anything better to do, he brings his beer to his lips and takes a generous gulp. It was meant to be a fun night away, laughing and drinking with his work mates, toasting to Charlie's happiness. Instead, he's stuck in the same mood he was in yesterday, ruminating over all the things his conversation with Connie dragged up.

And Ethan, in a huff over such triviality, doesn't even realise why Cal's so upset with him. He doesn't realise that he let his brother down last night. Cal's sure that if he had been able to vent, if his little brother had offered some words of advice, then he would be able to lock Lily and Connie and the thought of counselling in a corner of his mind for the duration of the stag-do. Instead they're right there with him.

He looks at his brother, watching the ridiculous way he taps his thigh out of time to the music, and decides he'd very annoyed with him. And, for fear of ruining the occasion for Charlie, there's nothing he can do about it.

Nothing, except drown his sorrows.

"Max," he says. "Exactly how many beers did you bring?"

"Oh, enough."

Cal's relieved, forty-five minutes later, when it proves Max is right. They arrive at their cheap hotel in Barry with enough beers in their system to turn the two steps out of the minibus into an obstacle course. He watches Ethan stagger down the steps and cheer to no-one at his success.

Cal ditches his brother in favour of Charlie, who has been sat at the opposite end of the bus to him. He throws an arm around his neck.

"Mr Charlie Duffy has quite a nice ring to it actually," he says.

Charlie chuckles. "Be as it may, that's wrong on two accounts."

"So _old_ -fashioned! A man can take a woman's name, you know."

"Except, Duffy isn't actually _Duffy_."

"What?" Cal squints at the nurse. "How drunk are you?"

Charlie opens his mouth to reply but then gets distracted by something behind Cal. His mouth breaks into a grin. "So drunk that I'm hallucinating my best friend," he says.

Cal follows Charlie's gaze. He vaguely recognises the man who's heading towards them.

"Duffy told me," the man says. "Wouldn't miss this for the world."

Charlie clasps him on the back. "Good to see you, Josh."

"You too, old pal." He smiles. "So. What's the plan?"

"The plan," Cal interrupts, "is to drink until we pass out."

* * *

The room is spinning. There's an incessant ringing coming from somewhere. Ethan dimly registers it's inside his own head. He blinks. The light is bright, painfully so, and he squeezes his eyes back shut. It hurts. His stomach feels like a blade is whirring inside. His head is so heavy it feels like it's about to fall off. And then he realises that, although his body is supported by a springy mattress, his head is hanging loosely over the side, discarded as though it's no longer of use. He struggles onto his front. Another wave of dizziness hits him and he lets out a feeble whine. He wonders what the hell has happened to him. There's nothing inside his aching brain that seems to explain it. He squints. The room comes into focus. Cream walls, beige carpet, an empty bed opposite, empty beer bottles scattered across the floor. The scene looks familiar but he's not sure why. Then he remembers. Charlie's stag do.

It's almost a relief to discover he's just hungover, rather than succumbed to a deadly tropical disease. But as consciousness prevails, he starts to fear what alcohol fuelled antics he's forgotten. Whatever happened, it must be bad for him to feel this ill from alcohol. It occurs to him that this must be how Cal's felt all those times Ethan's found him passed out on the floor and shaken him awake. He checks the stretch of carpet beside the bed for his brother. He's not there. Ethan's stomach churns. Once, it would have been no surprise to find his brother missing, having gone off with some woman, but Cal's not been into that recently. Then a small flash of memory reminds him that his brother's still annoyed with him.

He battles to his feet and stands still, legs apart to anchor him, while he tries to get the room into focus. He pushes open a door but it turns out to be the bathroom. Max is slumped on the floor, head on the toilet seat.

"Uhhh," Ethan says to him as a greeting.

Max responds by peeling himself off the toilet and blinking confusedly. "Wha'ss up?"

"Cal?"

"I'm Max."

"No, I-" Ethan shakes his head and then regrets the movement. "Urgh. Never mind."

He watches through one eye as Max grabs hold of the towel rail and tries to pull himself to his feet. The final tug snaps the rail off the wall and Max stumbles into him. Ethan does his best to keep both of them upright and succeeds, but only because he's wedged against the sink. It's at that point they both notice the discarded bag of chips in the basin. Max's grimace lightens and he helps himself to a handful.

Ethan staggers back out the bathroom before he throws up on top of the food. He tries the next door along. It reveals itself as a wardrobe and Ethan wonders if he could curl up inside to recover from his hangover in peace. But he takes the sensible option of trying another door and thankfully this time finds himself in the corridor. He looks left and right but can't recall which room is the other one they have booked.

He doesn't know how long he's been standing there confused before Dylan arrives. He gives no sign of having noticed Ethan dithering in the doorway but heads towards the room on the left and so Ethan follows.

The first thing he spots is Cal sandwiched in bed between Noel and Josh. From the state of their appearances, Ethan loses any hope of them shedding some light on the evening's events.

"Cal, reception are enquiring whether you want your leg back," Dylan says. "Apparently it's against regulations to keep personal belongings there."

Cal blinks. "What's it doing there?" he rasps.

"Well, it didn't take itself." Dylan heads towards the window. "From the odour in here I'm assuming at least one of you vomited last night. Three grown men and not one of you thought to let some fresh air in!"

As Dylan draws the curtain, a sudden burst of sunlight impedes Ethan's vision. He blinks furiously and the room slowly returns to him. His brother is using the back of his hand to shield his eyes from similar blindness but the thing that grabs Ethan's attention is the chain around Cal's wrist, imprisoning him to a briefcase.

"Where'd you get that?" Ethan asks him.

"Uh." Cal fearfully pulls at the chains. "Anyone?"

There's a beat of silence.

"Hang on, never mind that," Dylan says. "What have you done with Charlie?"

Again, no-one answers but this time they stare at each other in horror.

The reality of a missing groom snaps them into action, out of bed and changing as fast as their hungover bodies will allow. Ethan tries to feel sympathetic for his brother, who's trapped in his shirt by the briefcase shackled to his wrist, but it's difficult considering he smells like a brewery.

Dylan disappears towards the exit with Josh and Noel only fractionally behind. Ethan finds himself, along with Max, commandeered into helping his brother hop slowly down the corridor.

"So, there's this really obvious joke," Max says. "I'm not sure I can resist for much longer."

"Don't say it," Cal growls.

Ethan's not amused either, but for different reasons. He's on the same side of Cal as the briefcase and it's been clattering into his side every step. He's sure it'll leave a bruise. A sharp corner jabs him and it's the final straw.

"For goodness sake, Caleb. Control your briefcase."

"It's not my briefcase."

"That's hardly the point. It hurts."

"Yeah, well, imagine how I feel. This hopping about really isn't helping my fragile stomach."

"Well, if you hadn't have left your leg with complete strangers-"

"If you weren't so bloody short. How am I meant to get anywhere when you're down here and he's up there?"

"Oh yes, I forgot I was accountable for my height."

"Well, you're making this even more difficult."

Ethan removes Cal's arm from around his shoulders. "Fine, suit yourself."

Cal manages two clumsy hops with just Max for support. "Hey, Nibbles, don't take it out on me just because you can't handle a hangover."

Ethan starts walking down the corridor.

Cal huffs, rolling his eyes. "Look, wait," he says, resigned. "Please. It's not your fault you're short, okay. And… I need your help."

It's not an apology, but hearing Cal grovel is the next best thing. Ethan waits patiently for them to catch up and lets his brother wrap his arm back around his neck.

"It's a good job reception have your leg. What would you have done if you'd left it in a random club?"

"What, alongside your dignity?"

"That's not-"

Max exaggerates a groan. "Do you two ever stop? You're giving me a headache."

"I don't think that's us, mate," Cal says, but he shuts up.

Ethan does the same. His throat aches with dehydration and not speaking makes it slightly easier to bear.

They make it to reception without further incident. While the group wait for Cal to fit his prosthesis, Ethan rests against the wall, cursing the lack of available seating. He watches, in a trance, as Dylan feeds coins into a vending machine and hands out bottled water to everyone who needs it. His stomach churns but it's worth it to have the liquid soothe his throat.

Josh, who's fairing slightly better than the rest of them, suggests he joins with Dylan to form the advance section of the Charlie-search-party. The doctor agrees, though Ethan suspects that he only did so to get a break from hungover whinging.

When they make it outside, the fresh air takes Ethan by surprise. It helps a little and he finally manages a coherent thought. "The wedding's at two o'clock," he tells the others. "So we've got to find Charlie in the next- the next…" he rubs at his forehead. "Um, what's three hours minus forty-five minutes?"

Max shrugs. Noel doesn't even look like he's listening.

Cal has acquired a fork from somewhere and is trying to pick the lock on his handcuffs. "Has anybody got any wire cutters?"

"Two hours, fifteen," Ethan says.

"What?"

Cal whines in frustration. "I can't carry this around all day."

"Charlie," Ethan reminds him.

Noel snaps to attention. "Charlie. Where?"

"He's lost," Max says.

Cal waves his fork in the air. "Brainwave! Let's just- just phone Charlie."

Ethan looks over his brother's shoulder as he pulls his phone out his pocket. The wallpaper shows a picture of familiar looking lady. "Why have you got Duffy as your background?"

"Uh-"

"Have you and her..?" Max suggests.

"No!"

All four of them jump as the phone starts to ring. The caller shows on the screen. Duffy.

"It's Charlie's phone."

"Who cares whose phone it is," Noel says. "The ringing is frying my brain."

Ethan has to admit he agrees. But when Max stops Cal answering it, he sees sense in that too. None of them are in a fit enough state to deal with an irate woman whose fiancé they've lost.

"Okay, let's split up, that way we can cover more ground."

As Max and Noel pair up, Ethan looks to his brother expectantly. Cal's jaw is set and it's clear he's not happy with his choice of partner. Ethan doesn't mind being with him. It gives him another chance to convert his brother's point of view, to make him see that walking in on someone in an intimate position is a far greater crime than throwing a shoe.

They traipse around the nearby amusement park. Ethan's not convinced it's the wisest place for them to be looking; he'd have headed straight for the beach, but Cal seems to be convinced Charlie's hiding among the fairground games and hot dog stands.

"You must remember something," Cal says, eventually.

"From last night?" No, it's one big blank."

"That's not like you. Usually you remember every detail, if not just to complain about everything I did."

Ethan doesn't rise to the bait. "Nothing for you either?"

Cal shakes his head. "Nothing useful."

"Come on, Cal, _think_."

Cal suddenly darts into a passageway between two stalls. He races half the way to the end, then stops. He turns 360 degrees and sighs, his arms falling limply by his side. "Damn, missed him."

"Charlie?"

"No, the maintenance guy."

"Maintenance-?"

"Wire cutters," Cal says as if it was obvious. "It's a fair. They must have some. I thought I just saw the right guy, but-"

"Unbelievable." Ethan puts his hands on his hips. He can't remember how long he'd calculated they had to find Charlie, if indeed that was even correct, but he knows they've wasted precious time wandering through the fairground. "That's just like you to be selfish. We have a race against time to find Charlie, who, may I add, has been a very good friend to you, and all you care about is your own wellbeing."

Cal shakes his head in disgust. "You don't miss any opportunity, do you?"

"Sorry?"

"To put me down. _Of course_ I care about Charlie. But I can hardly do anything with this briefcase attached to me."

"You can use your eyes." He sighs at his brother's response of turning his back and walking away. "Cal. Caleb. Where are you going?" He hastens after him.

"I'm looking for Charlie," he replies, deadpan. "Or do you not want me to do that anymore?"

"Don't be facetious."

"Can you stop being so moody?"

" _I'm_ being moody? You're in a strop with me over nothing, a little-"

"Stop," Cal says, holding up a hand to silence him.

"Caleb, don't you-"

"No, Ethan, I've got it. I've got something. That song. Can you hear it?"

Ethan listens. There's a cacophony of tunes being played from the various attractions within the fairground but it's obvious which his brother is referring to as it's louder than the rest. It's a brash dance track that he recognises but couldn't identify.

"It played last night," Cal says. "In the club."

"Which club?"

"I don't- I don't know which." He pauses and Ethan can see him try to fight back a smile. "But I do remember _when_. It was when you were dancing."

No, no, I don't dance," Ethan says.

* * *

 _The music was pounding. Cal helped himself to a tequila. They had somehow bribed the barmaid for a drinks discount and she had brought them a tray full of shots as part of the deal. Cal knew he'd probably had more than his fair share but everyone else was too drunk to notice. The spirit warmed his throat. He finally felt good, the drama and sulks of the last 24 hours behind him._

 _He looked to his left. Ethan was on his feet, throwing some dance moves that should probably be illegal. He didn't know where his little brother had learnt to thrust his pelvis like that. Cal supposed it was his brotherly duty to stop him embarrassing himself but instead he got out his phone and started recording. It was revenge. And quite possible blackmail material for next time he needed Ethan's help._

 _But then, he noticed his brother's movements slow as he became enraptured in something else. He followed Ethan's gaze to where a pole dancer was mid-routine. Her long legs wrapped around the pole and in one swift movement she flipped herself upside down. Her long brown hair flowed, the tips just grazing the floor. She span around the pole and for a moment Cal was sure she was going to fall. But then she landed, one heeled foot on the floor, the other flat against the pole, the perfect splits. She spun again and then smiled as her dance finished an applause fell._

 _She was swiftly replaced by another dancer but rather than retreating to staff quarters she paused in the crowd, swaying from one side to the other. She moved sensually, one hand through her hair, the other on her hip. Cal's eyes ran up her body, from the suspenders, to the crop top, to the lacy mask covering her eyes. His period of abstinence did nothing to quell his attraction to her. Then, her eyes locked on a target and she began to walk towards them. Ethan fell back onto his seat. Cal held his breath and hoped. But the beautiful pole dancer stopped in front of Charlie and held her hand out to him._

" _Well who's this handsome stag," she asked._

 _Charlie, mid drink, had spluttered. He had accepted the hand she offered him and allowed himself to be led away. Cal had drunk two tequila shots back to back._

"Well?" Ethan says.

Cal pats himself down to find his phone. He holds it in his hand like a trophy he's within breathing distance of winning. "I recorded you," he says.

Ethan's face falls. "Yes, I'm sure you have footage that will humiliate me forever, but this is about Charlie, remember?"

Cal sighs. He doesn't know why his brother always jumps to the conclusion that he's doing something wrong. "Just watch it," he says. "There must be something that identifies the club."

He presses play on the video. Immediately drunk Ethan springs to life, arms in the air, hips with a life of their own. In the light of day it looks worse even to him, so when he takes a glance at his brother, he's not surprised to find him red cheeked, watching through one eye.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Ethan murmurs.

Cal feels a flicker of guilt but he doesn't reply. His eyes roam the screen and he's soon rewarded. He presses pause. Ethan freezes mid pirouette. He zooms to small drinks table at the foreground of the screen. There's a drinks menu and towards the top of it a single word name in gold lettering. Bliss.

 _With the beautiful pole dancer in the forefront of his brain, Cal had soon got bored with Ethan's dancing and Noel's cheesy jokes. He had wandered away, first to the bar for a whiskey and coke, and then towards the row of secluded booths._

 _Each booth was made private by nothing more than a red velvet curtain. Cal had chosen a booth at random and disturbed a young man receiving what was probably his first ever lap dance. He closed the curtain with neither laugh nor apology but a sobering realisation that he didn't want another view like that. Charlie's laugh directed him and this time it was the correct curtain he peered around. Thankfully they were both fully dressed, sat side by side, and having nothing more sordid than a heart to heart._

 _One look at her had sent a lie tumbling from his lips. He told Charlie that Josh was looking for him and the nurse thanked him for the message with a hug so fierce that it almost knocked him over. Once alone with the dancer, he smiled at her, adoration beaming from his heavily lidded eyes. Fuelled with alcohol filled confidence, he was sure she would fall for his charms._

" _Where are you from?" she asked._

" _Holby."_

" _And when are you going back?"_

 _He laughed. This was almost too easy. "Tomorrow," he said, making the word sound as seductive as he could manage._

 _She took his hand. "Meet me first thing," she said._

 _She pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He was simultaneously aroused and confused and his brain was still processing the development when she cuffed his wrist. He looked down, wondering if she was going to ravish him then and there, but all he saw was a long chain attaching him to a briefcase._

" _What are you doing?"_

" _I'll come to where you're staying," she said. "I have the key with me so don't even think about running off."_

 _She still sounds flirtatious so it made no sense that the rendezvous he'd expected was not coming true._

" _And then I'm taking a ride with you, okay?"_

" _Yeah," he says, flummoxed. "Okay._

* * *

Ethan follows his brother into the club called Bliss. If he recognises it, it's from Cal's video rather than his own memories, and it's deserted now, far from the heaving crowds of before. The only occupant is a well-built man behind the bar.

"Morning," Cal says to him.

"We're closed for punters for another five hours," the man replies in a gruff Welsh accent. He's pouring himself a beer and doesn't look up. "Come back then and I'll hook you up with one of Barry's hottest girls."

"No, we're not after girls," Cal says. "At least, not in that way. We were here last night. We're looking for one of your dancers."

"I said, not for another five hours."

"I have something of hers. I wish to return it."

He snorts. "My girls have hundreds of pairs of panties! Don't bother."

"It's not- it's not that."

"Then clear off! We're closed."

"Please," Ethan interrupts. The man looks up and his eyes bear in to his. He tries his best not to feel intimidated. "Just hear us out."

"She was, uh, mid-twenties, brown hair, fit," Cal says.

"That's either Princess or Candy," he says. "Or possibly Harmony."

"Good dancer," Ethan suggests. He blushes as both Cal and the man look at him.

"I've got my catalogues," the man says. "I'll show you the pictures if it gets you out of here quicker."

Luckily, Cal's memory doesn't fail him when identifying the mystery woman as Candy.

"It's her," he says, decisively. "How do we get in touch?"

"What do you want? Her address?!"

"That would do nicely."

The man shakes his head. He takes a sip of his beer, leaving white foam on his upper lip. "Whatever," he says. "If she's selling herself, it's no skin off my nose." He pulls a folder from beneath the bar and thumbs through it. "This is her," he says. "Just don't bring my name into it or I'll be tracking you both down."

"Thank you."

"And we won't," Ethan adds hastily.

They get a taxi to the address. Ethan pays, of course. Cal, always skint, has even less money now he's only working part time, and he spent most of that last night. As soon as they arrive, a bad feeling settles in the pit of Ethan's stomach, one which he's sure isn't related to the hangover. The front windows are boarded up with cardboard and the door slightly ajar. He sends a hasty text to Dylan with the address and is about to tell Cal that this is a bad idea when he realises his brother is already through the door and half way up the stairs.

"Hello?" he hears Cal call.

He shakes his head to himself and follows.

"Ethan!"

The urgency in his brother's voice propels him up the stairs faster than anything else could. In the middle of the room a girl he presumes to be Candy is on the floor, tied to a fallen over chair. He drops to the floor, the opposite side of her to Cal, and positions his ear by her mouth to check she's breathing. She is but she doesn't look well.

"She's tachycardic," Cal tells him as he sets to work freeing her from the restraints with a knife he's found on the floor. He struggles to move with the briefcase.

"Cal," he says, feeling sick. "There's a great big piece of chair in her arm."

They exchange a concerned look.

Candy stirs. "You brought my briefcase," she murmurs. "I know a good man when I see one."

They manage to free her and Ethan helps her into a sitting position.

She cries out in pain. "Please, get me out of here."

"Call 999," Cal says to him.

"No! No hospitals." Candy looks at them, wide eyed but swaying unsteadily.

"You need urgent medical attention."

"Oh, come on, please, I'm fine," she moans. "We need to go. All of us. Now. There's a man who's looking for you and you don't want him finding you."

Ethan wraps a towel around the wound, something to stem the bleed while they convince her to get treatment.

"Where's Charlie?" Cal asks her.

"How would I know?"

Ethan examines the foreign object sticking out of her arm. He knows it could be pressing on a blood vessel or a nerve and either could cause extensive damage and danger to life. "You need to have this removed in supervised medical conditions."

"She said she doesn't want that," Cal snaps.

Ethan looks at him in shock. If his brother is baiting for an argument, he's picked a dreadful time. "Well she can't go around with it in her arm, can she?"

"You're the expert!"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," Ethan says, although he supposes he is. But they're both doctors and he doesn't see how Cal can sanction her not getting medical treatment.

"That's all you ever say. You pretend that you're all nerves and shyness but really you can't stop yelling about how smart you are."

"I'd really like to get moving," Candy whimpers.

"It was just a shoe, Cal. I hit you with a shoe. Get over it!"

"It's not just the shoe though, is it, Ethan?"

"Isn't it?" Ethan glares at his brother. "If you've got something to say, if I've done something wrong, then go ahead and say it."

"Oh, how could Mr Perfect have done something wrong?" Cal snaps. "You're so angry at me for disturbing your precious moment with Alicia, you haven't even stopped to consider I might have needed you last night."

"I don't have time for this," Candy says, half yell, half sob. She moves niftily, taking hold of the end of the chair leg and tugging it out of her arm.

Blood spurts from the wound. She immediately slumps forwards, crying out in pain. They work together again as brothers, taking clothes from the nearby rack and using it to create a makeshift tourniquet just above the wound. The blood flow eases and Ethan gives a sigh of relief.

"It's lucky I retied," she says.

"You want to retire?" A gravelly, heavily accented voice fills the room. "I should be able to help you with that."

Ethan looks up. At the sight of the man in front of them, a shiver runs down his spine.

"That's my briefcase," he says, pointing at Cal.

Cal stands, briefcase in his arms. "Here it is," he replies.


	20. Chapter 20

I loved the brother scenes from the episode, the cuddle in the minibus and then their conversation at the wedding and really wanted to include them in my version. Unfortunately they didn't quite fit, but I have referenced them. I couldn't not! Again, not my best chapter but I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

 **pxnic-at-mxdnight:** I'm glad you liked that line and their arguments. Even though I'm obviously a sucker for when they are being sweet, I do find their bickering fun to read/write as well. Thank you so much for your review and the comments, means a lot :)

 **InfinityAndOne:** Thank you! I'm glad it's not just me that finds angst easier. I'm so pleased and relieved that the changes I made seemed to work okay and also that their arguments were realistic. I love their bickering but this one was verging on more serious. Thank you for your comments, hope you continue to enjoy :)

* * *

20.

* * *

In the seconds that follow, time seems to slow down. Cal watches the man, the slight smirk that crosses his face as he assesses him as an opponent, the nose that had obviously never fully recovered from a fracture, the square shoulders, the stance of a fighter, and witnesses the moment his eyes harden.

And yet the blow still comes as a surprise. His breath is forced from him. His stomach is on fire. His knees buckle and he crashes to the ground, spluttering, gasping desperately for air. It hurts but worse than the pain is the helplessness, the realisation that his assailant is still moving and there's nothing he can do to protect himself.

He sees a flash of metal as the knife he used to free Candy is snatched from the floor. He feels himself dragged upwards by his wrist. He frantically searches for a plan but his brain is frozen on the innate need for oxygen and he can't move away from the throbbing in his stomach. His heart is hammering in his ears so loudly that he thinks he may pass out.

But then, above the din in his own head, he hears his brother's war cry. There's a thud and then suddenly he's released, free to slump forwards and fold into himself. His breaths fall heavily onto his knees. Everything still hurts but he manages to lift his head just in time to see Ethan crawling across the floor towards him. He's dishevelled, his forehead bruised and his eyes lined with worry, but he's there and Cal knows he's safe.

"Cal," Ethan says, almost a whisper.

Cal feels his brother's hands on his head, gently stroking the side of his face and it reminds him of those early days after the accident. He leans into him and manages a sigh of relief.

"Nobody touches my brother," Ethan says.

They share a weak smile. Cal guides his brother's head to his own and for a moment they rest, holding each other. He knows their argument is paused, currently insignificant.

"Well," a voice interrupts, "this seems about par for the course."

Cal looks over his shoulder and sees Dylan and Josh looking confusedly into the mess of injured people and strewn belongings. He struggles into a sitting position and leans against the work surface, not quite ready to explain what happened.

"But still no Charlie," Josh says.

Dylan, hands on hips, tuts. "And now we have this mess to deal with. I suppose one of us needs to be the adult and alert the police."

"If- if you don't mind," Ethan pants. He kneels alongside Cal. "Let me check you over," he says, his voice low.

Cal shakes his head in protest but his brother is already lifting the hem of his shirt. He follows Ethan's gaze. His stomach is mottled with burgundy bruises. Ethan presses the area and Cal sharply inhales. He knocks Ethan's hand away and his shirt falls back into place.

"Just checking there's nothing going on internally that we need to be aware of. Sorry, I know it must be sore."

"It's fine," he rasps. "I've had worse."

"You can hardly talk." Ethan squeezes Cal's shoulder, frowning deeply. "Bring your legs up to your chest, that should help."

Cal rolls his eyes. If it wasn't so difficult he would have pointed out to his brother that he was a doctor too; he knew what position he should be sitting in, just was having problems getting his body to co-operate. He moves his right leg but leaves his left flat on the floor. He gives Ethan a sidewise glance, hoping he understands not to press him to move that one too. It takes concentration at the best of times, even when his whole body hasn't turned to jelly.

Ethan nods. "Okay. Good."

"How's your head? You have a lump."

Ethan's hand flies to his head as if he's only just realised he has an injury. He winces as his fingers find the swollen area. "I head-butted him," he says in surprise.

"Yeah." Cal gives a shaky laugh. "Yeah you did. That was seriously impressive, bro."

Ethan raises his eyebrows and fails to disguise a chuffed smile. "Yes, well, I've always been quite the _action man_."

Cal's smile fades. Ethan may have been joking about himself but that doesn't change the fact that he used to be able to own that role for real. He suddenly feels small and incapable and it's nothing to do with the fact he's slumped on the floor. A question floats into his mind and takes hold. It makes his bones ache. What if Ethan only saved him because he sees him as weak now?

"What is it?" Ethan asks.

Cal hesitates. He's never been good at this, at sharing what's really going on inside his head. Neither of them are. But, if he's going to tell anyone, it's going to be Ethan. He scans the room, checking everyone else is too occupied to hear. Josh is comforting Candy. Dylan is standing guard over the stirring man. It's just him and his little brother.

He takes a deep breath. "Why did you-?"

"Police!"

Cal's question is lost in a commotion of noise as officers storm the house. His head drops backwards against the work surface he's leaning on. He watches, surprised by the seriousness of the police intervention, their hands on their guns, ready to act.

"He's here," Dylan announces, gruffly, a nod towards the man.

"What exactly happened?"

"Ah, yes, I'd be interested to know that too!"

Ethan stands and Cal watches as he introduces himself to the police formally with a handshake. His brother explains, first about the suspiciously high sum of banknotes in the briefcase, the imprisonment of Candy and finally Cal's assault. Cal lightly rubs at his tender stomach. It still hurts but he feels much better already now that he has his breath back.

Yet, when the man, now consciousness enough to understand what's going on, tries to stand, Cal's stomach lurches and it's not because of the pain. He barely breathes as he watches the police surround his assailant and the man fights against them.

"I want her," he growls, "and him," he points in Cal's direction, "arrested for theft of my money. Conspiracy."

"And where's that money from, Miloslav?" one police officer asks.

The man's eyes shoot to the officer's and he stops fighting for a moment in shock.

"Yes, you're known to us," he says by way of explanation. "Can't imagine that will come as too much of a surprise."

As Miroslav tries again to twist away from the police, an older officer steps in. "Come on, fella, let's do this the easy way."

But he takes no heed and continues to resist arrest. Cal watches at they cuff him on the floor and hold him still while he scuffles as they read him his rights. Miroslav is lifted back into a standing position to be lead from the room. Even though he is retrained, his voice remains free and he threatens them all as he leaves; he will remember their faces and they will pay.

"Right," a policeman says, after two of his colleagues have taken Miroslav to the van. "We need all of your names and addresses and we'll take statements in due course."

Cal is grateful that Ethan explains they live at the same address so that all he needs to do is provide them with his name and then focus his attentions on getting back on his feet. He still feels shaky and his stomach hurts so he's glad when his brother offers him a hand.

"Dylan Keogh," Cal hears an officer say incredulously. "Funny. We have one of you in custody."

"Ah, well it's _Doctor_ Keogh here."

"Yeah. Yeah that one was a doctor too."

"Hang on," Josh says. "Just a thought. He doesn't happen to be 63, have white hair and be recovering from a stinking hangover, does he?"

* * *

Ethan, sitting between Alicia and Cal, keeps his head firmly fixed on the bride and groom as they recite their vows. He isn't often sentimental at such things and that somehow makes the prickling in his eyes ten times more embarrassing. He doesn't know whether to blame the hangover, the way Alicia has slipped her hand into his, or the looks of adoration passing between Charlie and Duffy. All he knows is that if his brother notices him getting emotional, he'll never live it down. But then a loud sniff comes from Cal's direction too.

The registrar announces that the groom may kiss the bride and as the two nurses bring their lips together, the room breaks into applause. Ethan finally allows himself to look at Alicia. She smiles at him and his heart jumps. Even he isn't naive enough to voice the thoughts but he can't help imagine Alicia on her wedding day, stunning dress, beautiful make-up, looking at him the way Charlie and Duffy look at each other.

"What are you thinking?" she asks in a hushed whisper.

He feels his cheeks burn. "Oh, um, it's a beautiful wedding, isn't it?"

She looks at him suspiciously but nods. "I do love a wedding. And you know the best bit?"

"Um-"

"The free drinks at the reception," she says, nudging him.

"Oh definitely," Cal interjects from Ethan's right.

"Well I'm hardly surprised you agree."

"I'm surprised you don't," Cal continues, "the amount you were putting away last night."

"Tell me more!" Alicia says. "There must be something juicy."

Ethan shudders at the thought of that awful video Cal has of him dancing and makes a note to hijack his brother's phone at the first opportunity.

"What happens in Barry stays in Barry," Cal says.

"Don't be boring."

"Ethan will kill me," he says with a grin. "Apparently certain things are meant to stay private."

There's an awkward silence as Cal's words rearrange themselves into a different context. Ethan shuffles uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look," Alicia says. "Can we forget it happened? For all of our sakes."

Ethan doesn't know which one of them to look at.

"Sure," Cal replies. "And if it makes you feel any better, Ethan threw a shoe at my head in revenge."

"Oh, it's a good job I'm wearing stilettos then, isn't it?"

Ethan jumps as Cal grabs him and pretends to use him as a shield.

"I've been attacked by one of those things before," he says. "They can do a lot of damage."

"Consider it a threat. Don't do it next time."

Ethan is sure he's still bright red but he can't help but latch onto the _next time_ with hope.

"Come on," Cal says. "Free drinks are calling."

They head through into the Hope & Anchor for the reception. It's decorated tastefully and Ethan thinks he could easily forget they're in their local pub rather than a tailor made wedding venue.

Soon, Alicia wants to dance and he tries to resist until Cal pushes him forward. At first he's terribly self-conscious of being on a half empty dance floor in front of all his colleagues, but Alicia positions his arms, one on her shoulder, the other on her waist, and sets the pace as they sway to the music. Thankfully it's not long before everyone else joins in and they're hidden in a throng of people.

"You look beautiful," he whispers in her ear.

"Thank you," she says. "You look very handsome yourself."

"Oh. Thank you. That's not something I- um, well, we got changed in the minibus. Rather a rush!"

"How did you get the bruise?"

He half laughs. "As my brother said, what happens in Barry stays in Barry."

"I'll get it out of you, you know." Her eyes run down his body and back to his lips. "I have my means."

"I-" He wants to kiss her but he's not sure whether they do that in public yet. "I don't doubt that."

"Later, Ethan Hardy."

Her eyes are burning into his so passionately that he has to look away. He spies his brother, alone at the bar, staring into a whiskey.

Alicia follows his gaze. "It's okay if you need to go to him."

Ethan shrugs, torn. "Cal will be fine."

"So will I." She catches Robyn's hand as she dances by. "Later!" she says, winking as she disappears into the crowd.

He smiles at her, attraction heightened now he knows she's considerate towards his brother as well. He battles through the crowds of people to his brother.

"Hey."

"Hey." Cal takes a sip of his drink. He nods towards Alicia. "You two together now then?"

"I… don't know."

"Go on, Nibbles, ask her out!"

"We're not twelve," Ethan replies but he can't help smiling.

"No. You didn't have girlfriends when you were twelve."

"You did!"

"Yeah. First girlfriend at nine and now I can't even get a kiss from a stripper."

"She wasn't a stripper. She was an exotic dancer."

"Even so-"

"And ignoring the misogyny of you assuming her profession had any impact on whether she wanted to kiss you, I want to talk to you."

He rolls his eyes. "We're talking."

Ethan swallows at the reaction, an indicator this isn't going to be easy. "Cal," he says, "earlier you said- well, you shouted, actually- that the other night you had needed me. What did you mean? Had something happened?"

Cal looks down and shakes his head. "I overreacted."

"No, tell me."

Cal's silent for a moment. "Can we get a drink first?"

Ethan purchases them both a pint of beer. He wouldn't usually condone drinking to numb problems but if it's the only way he can get his brother to have an open conversation with him, he'll do it. He passes Cal his drink and steers them both to a quieter part of the pub.

"How's your stomach now?" he asks

"I'll live. Thanks, though, for stopping him."

"You seriously think I considered any other alternative?"

Cal shrugs.

"I was always going to step in." Ethan tells him. "You're my brother,"

"But is that the only reason?"

"What do you mean?"

Cal takes a large swig of his pint and then continues to stare into it as he speaks. "I just thought… maybe-" He swallows. "Because of-? he nods towards his leg. "Maybe you thought I needed extra help."

"Caleb, you were winded," he replies. "I've been thumped in the stomach before, not even as hard as that, and you can't do anything. It had nothing to do with your leg."

"I just feel like I should have been able to do more. I used to get myself in and out of dangerous situations all the time."

"Yes, well, I prefer it when you don't."

"Like this?" Cal says and there's an edge to his voice.

"When you're safe," Ethan replies, calmly.

Cal stares at him hard for a few seconds and then looks away again, back into his pint.

"Please tell me what you meant," Ethan says. What's the reason you needed me?"

Cal deflates almost immediately but it's a long few seconds before he speaks. "I _did_ get in trouble with Mrs Beauchamp."

Ethan nods, he had known his brother was lying when he denied it but telling Cal that will only rile him. "What for?"

Cal shakes his head.

"Cal. Caleb, look at me." Ethan waits until his brother reluctantly rolls his head to face him. "Listen, whatever you do, however insane, I still look at you and think _yeah_ , that's my brother. So whatever happened this time, that's not going to change."

Even though Cal doesn't smile, Ethan can see him reacting to the words.

"It was… I- I said some things to Lily in front of a patient. Some mean things."

Ethan fights the urge to tell his brother that Lily didn't deserve it. From the tinge on Cal's cheeks, he suspects his brother already knows.

"It- it just-" Cal continues. "It reminded me that even now I'm still… not over it."

"No-one expects you to be."

" _I_ do!"

At the break in his brother's voice, Ethan's chest throbs.

"I mean, it's been a while now, right? I can, you know, do most things. So why do I still sometimes… feel-?"

"Like you're going to explode?"

Cal nods, his face painfully creased.

"Because you're human, Cal. It's natural to have days when you think about what you've lost rather than what you still have."

"But it's not fair! I want to move on, be okay again, but, I dunno- it feels like _she's_ the thing that's stopping me."

"She's not doing it on purpose," Ethan says softly. "And-" he pauses, gathering the courage to say something his brother may not like, "and you need to find a better way to channel your emotions than shouting at Lily. You do know that, don't you?"

Cal's eyebrows knot together just like they always do when he's getting told off. But then his expression clears and he gives a reluctant nod. "Beauchamp suggested counselling. Uh, insisted, actually."

"Really? And- and how-?"

"Well I don't want to, obviously."

Ethan stays silent, remembering what happened months ago when _he_ suggested counselling.

"But if it helps me stop feeling like I did the other day…"

Ethan places his glass on the table and turns to fully face his brother. "Caleb, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"Don't be. Look, come here."

Cal puts an arm around him and pulls him close. Ethan's surprised to feel his brother's lips graze the top of his head. It's both an apology and a declaration of love and Ethan conveys his agreement in a similar method, by dropping his head onto his brother's shoulder and relaxing into the embrace. He feels his lips curve into a soppy smile. He knows that their argument is over now, buried for good.

After a few seconds Cal releases him. He may look like nothing happened but Ethan knows there's been a change, an understanding between the two of them, an unspoken acknowledgement of their unbreakable bond. He also gets it; the conversation is over now, Cal is comforted and Ethan is placated.

He surveys the room, looking for a subject to latch on to, to verbalise his understanding. But they're in a pub, there's only one thing for inspiration.

"Do you want to risk alcohol poisoning?" Ethan says.

Cal grins. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Cal's head is pounding. His stomach churns. It's the second day in a row he's spent the morning feeling like this and he doesn't know how he used to cope when it was a regular occurrence many months ago. There's a towel on the bathroom floor next to him. He uses it to wipe his mouth and then his forehead; it may be winter but the alcohol has left him hot and sweaty. His eyes burn with tiredness but shutting them gives the room permission to spin. He folds his arms and lets his head fall forwards onto them, resting on the closed lid of the toilet. He knows it's a waiting game now. Waiting for the drink to pass through his system and to finally feel human again.

He wakes with a start as his brother bursts into the room, a hurricane of Ethan, urgent limbs and a worried brow. He moves just in time for Ethan to thrust the toilet seat upwards and noisily vomit into the basin. He watches, largely because he can't be bothered to turn his head but morbidly fascinated by how his brother's body shudders with each retch. A putrid smell floats in his direction.

"That's disgusting," Cal murmurs, despite the fact it was him emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet less than an hour ago.

Ethan feels for the toilet roll and uses a generous quantity to dab at his mouth. He flushes the toilet but leaves the seat open, an obvious precaution. He falls backwards against the wall and Cal sees that his eyes are bloodshot. It's not unlikely his own are the same.

"Sorry," Ethan says.

"It's fine. Not as if I haven't seen people throw up before." Cal stretches his neck, turning his head from one side to the other. It feels incredibly stiff, probably from the uncomfortable position he'd napped in, head on the toilet.

"Not usually me, though."

"No. Patients."

"Did you have to?" Ethan groans.

"What?"

"The P word. I have work later. How am I meant to work like this?"

"You start at 3, right? You'll be fine by then." He grimaces. "Unlike me. I have physio in an hour."

"Are you going to go?"

Cal shrugs and then wishes he didn't. His whole body seems to ache. It's then he remembers about the large bruise on his stomach. He lifts his t-shirt and examines it. There are already multiple shades surrounding the purple of where his fist hit. It throbs at the thought of touching it.

"You okay?" Ethan asks.

"Yeah. The hangover is worse than the bruise," he lies.

"Right." Ethan doesn't sound convinced.

"It was a good night though, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Ethan says. "Good to spend it with you."

Cal makes it to physio only five minutes late. It had been a team effort between him and Ethan. His brother had booked him a taxi and made coffees while Cal showered. Neither of them could be bothered to cook so Cal had constructed a crisp sandwich in the back of the taxi, much to the disapproval of the driver.

Fran is outside the building when he arrives and for a moment he thinks she's waiting for him. But then he realises she has a coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, engrossed scrolling in a way he's only witnessed in teenage patients.

"Hey," he says.

She looks up at him through narrowed eyes that he can't quite meet. He reminds himself that it's just Fran and he's not back under Mrs Beauchamp's scrutiny.

"You have crisp crumbs on your face," she tells him.

"Oh. Yeah." He brushes them away. "Ate in the taxi."

"Late night was it?"

He hesitates, unsure whether she'll feel professionally obligated to reprimand him for turning up hungover. "At least I'm here," he says, defensively.

"True." She gulps down the last of her coffee. "I would have phoned in sick myself if I'd had anyone else but you first thing."

He looks up, surprised. Now that he's searching for them, he can see the tell-tale signs, smudged mascara, puffy eyes and a coffee mug that's large even for her.

"Nico's sister visited from Italy," she elaborates.

"Oh, you don't get on?"

"We get on very well, actually. Far too well. We have more in common than either of us do with my husband."

"Like a love of wine?" Cal suggests with a cheeky smile. "And gin. And-"

"Hey, enough! You make me sound terrible."

"Well feel free to correct me."

She smiles at the floor. "You're not wrong. But you! What's your story?"

"Friend's stag-do followed by friend's wedding. It turns out Ethan is a bad influence."

"Now, I don't believe that."

"I'm not lying," Cal says. "We got drunk because we fell out, but then we made up so we drank to that too."

"Why did you fall out?"

Cal chuckles. "Trust me, you're better off not knowing."

"That just makes me more intrigued!"

A window behind them opens with a click. Cal peers through the glass to see Mo, raised eyebrows and straight lips.

"Oh, hi, mate."

"Are you coming inside any time today?" he asks.

Cal grins. He knows Mo isn't really annoyed and he's always suspected the physio secretly enjoys acting as the stern contrast to him and Fran.

"Perhaps," he replies. "You got anything new for me to do for once?"

Mo looks back into the room behind him as if he's debating. "Nah, same old. But you don't look like you're up to much for than that!"

"Uh." Cal looks at Fran out of the corner of his eye. He suspects Mo won't be as lenient on him for turning up in such a state. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Cal. You think because I don't drink, I can't recognise a hangover when I see one?" He grins. "I have worked with Fran for years!"


	21. Chapter 21

I thought last night's episode was great! Despite the upsetting nature of Alicia's storyline, it feels good to be excited about what happens next - I haven't felt like that since Cal and Ethan's heyday. That said, I am slightly cautious about the timing of this upload due to some of the content in this compared to the episode (you'll see what I mean) - but this is nearly a year and a half behind where the show is now and no-one is doing anything wrong here.

Just a warning - first part of the chapter has mature content in, probably scroll through if you're not of an appropriate age!

Also, the thing that happens in the last part of the chapter (being cryptic as I don't want to give away my own spoilers) has been moved forward from where it happened in the series. In other words, the other thing that happened straight afterward (this is hard, I hope I'm making sense haha) is still some distance away yet.

As always, thank you to all my readers, I hope you enjoy it and I would really appreciate if you can leave a quick review.

 **casfics:** Thank you so much for your review and picking out that sentence. I actually really struggle to write anyone other than the brothers so it means a lot that you felt they were in character. Hope you enjoy the next lot of reading material.

 **pxnic-at-mxdnight:** Ahh thank you so much. I hadn't intended that ahead of writing but while in the middle of it it just seemed to make sense and added to the whole 'I'm not over it' thing. Yeah, I'm not that keen on them as a couple either haha but I think it's because I want to read/write/see Ethan with Cal so much more! Thanks for your comments, hope you enjoy the update.

* * *

21.

* * *

The sun beams through thin curtains, raising Ethan from his slumber. He's been meaning to change them since he bought the flat but has so far evaded it. Once, he got as far as purchasing a new pair and a stepladder to help him reach the rail, but then Cal pointed out their similarities with the curtains that hang around the hospital cubicles and so he'd returned them to their carrier bag at the bottom of his wardrobe.

Usually when the sun acts as a wake-up call on his day off, Ethan resolves to buy some black out blinds, anything to get a much needed lie in. But today, he feels a stirring body next to him, and doesn't mind being awake. The more time he gets to spend with Alicia, the better.

"Morning," he whispers.

"Morning."

She rolls over to face him. Her blonde hair hangs limply around her face, sleep-made waves rather than tonged straightness and he decides it suits her. There are smudges of mascara beneath her eyes, after all they'd had bigger priorities last night than giving her time to remove it, but her eyes still sparkle as she looks at him.

"Sleep well?"

"Best in a long time," she says, her breath tickling his chin.

"Good. It can be difficult to sleep somewhere unfamiliar. If the mattress is too hard, or um, soft, springy-"

She laughs. "I don't think it was the mattress, Ethan." She wriggles closer to him and whispers in his ear. "You wore me out last night."

He laughs too, though it's a nervous chuckle rather than her musical giggle. He feels his cheeks burning. "Gosh, um-"

She cuts him off a kiss. His lips respond immediately even though his mind takes a while to catch up. It's still new and wonderful and if it wasn't for the gentle pressure of her mouth against his, he wouldn't believe it was really happening. She moves so she's half on top of him and her hand is flat on his chest and their bare legs tangle together. He frees his hand from beneath her and uses it to trace her back. Her skin is soft and smooth and he doesn't think he'll ever tire of exploring it.

As if she has come to the same realisation, her own hands start to move, one to his jaw, just centimetres from where their lips smile as they meet, the other down to his bare hip, the sensitive skin that rarely gets seen or touched. It's hot beneath the duvet and their bodies are clammy in a way that should bother him but doesn't. She deepens this kiss and Ethan, bolstered by the way her tongue sought his, takes his fingertips on a journey away from the curve of her back. She moans against him and it's a sound that's more beautiful to his ears than his favourite songs.

"Ethan," she says, breathlessly.

His lips quiver, instantly missing her touch. "Yeah?"

"We have all day, right?"

Her finger runs along his bottom lip.

"Yeah," he repeats, kissing her hand. "Cal won't be home until 3 and that's assuming he's off shift on time."

"Good."

She moves to straddle him and the duvet lifts with her, revealing the area he's been exploring with his hands. In an unspoken agreement, their eyes lock. She kisses him once and then wriggles so she's sat upright and the duvet falls from her shoulders. He's suddenly very conscious of their bodies, laid out on display to each other, and his eyes fall away, landing on the oak cabinet beside his bed. They've only done this at night before and the leaking daylight of mid-morning adds a level of intimacy he's not expected.

"Okay?" she asks

"I- yeah." He returns his gaze, pulling himself in a sit-up to meet her mouth with his. "You honestly are the most _beautiful_ woman I've met."

Her lips tug as she fights back a smile. "Flattery, as it happens, Mr Hardy, will get you everywhere."

"I- I wasn't," he stammers, cheeks turning pink. "I said it because I meant it. I wasn't trying to, you know…"

"I know," she says, half way down his body already. "You're sweet."

He tries to retain composure but it's not long before her name is expelled from his lips in a gasp. After that, he's helpless. His fingers unconsciously tangle in her hair. His hips form a rhythm. A noise that he didn't know he was capable of escapes his throat. And he remembers last night and their first night and how he was just as entranced then, and how he doesn't think he'll ever stop being enthralled by her.

He's still panting as she crawls up him, wide-eyed and trembling.

"Ethan," she says, "please."

Their lips crash together, clumsily this time, but no less enticing. He holds her waist and rolls them over so that he's above her and she's reaching for the back of his neck to pull him down on top. He strokes loose strands of hair off her face but she grabs his wrist and redirects his hand to where she wants it.

She makes a noise, half moan, half instruction. He takes the cue and acts accordingly, barely noticing when her legs wrap around his hips. Their bodies move in unison and in that moment it feels like their minds are in sync too, wanting the same, both needing each other in the same way they need oxygen. He wishes it would never end but it does and once again he returns to reality.

He slumps onto his back, feeling alive but too exhausted to reach for the duvet. Alicia curls up on her side next to him and he puts his arm around her. They don't speak at first and their breaths fall heavily onto an otherwise silent room. He's not sure what he should say to break the silence; _that was… wow,_ or _are you okay_ or _I can't believe you're here with me after all those months barely daring to imagine it_. After that, he's sure it should be something profound.

"I'm hungry," Alicia says suddenly, making the decision for him, and somehow not ruining the moment in the way he's sure he would have if he said the same.

"I can make us breakfast," he suggests.

"Can you cook?"

"I'm okay," he says. "Better than my brother." He cringes, not sure why he's brought Cal up when he's lying there naked, and hastily changes tactic. "Eggs. I have eggs. Cereal. I could make pancakes but I'm not sure I have much in the way of topping-"

"Eggs sound good," she says, sleepily.

"Great. Will you be alright here if I nip in the shower? Then I can get the food started."

"Yeah." She yawns. "Wake me up if I fall back to sleep."

"I will."

He showers quickly, not wanting to be away from her for long, and then frantically tidies away the clutter Cal has left in the bathroom, a t-shirt, an empty bottle of aftershave and for some inexplicable reason, a pizza delivery leaflet. He returns to his room to dress and finds Alicia scrolling through her phone. He hesitates in the doorway, shy to announce his presence despite what they were doing not long ago. But she senses him and welcomes him with her smile and by putting down her phone.

"Still awake then?" he teases.

"Waiting for my breakfast! Can I grab a shower too?"

"Of course. You know where to find it?"

She nods as she crawls to the edge of the bed. She helps herself to his shirt off the floor, and pulls it on, wrapping it like a dressing gown rather than bothering with the buttons. He's not much taller than her and so it barely reaches her thighs but he can't help but smile at seeing her in it.

"What are you grinning about?" she asks.

"Oh." He gives a bashful nod at being caught. "Um, just you."

She leans in to kiss him. A single finger traces along the line of skin just above the towel around his waist. "You say all the right things."

"Do I?" he says in surprise. If anyone had asked him he would have easily confessed to awkward mumblings and bad jokes that more often than not resulted in red cheeks and uncomfortable silences. That was particularly prevalent when with a woman he had feelings for.

She shrugs, smiling now as well. "Oh, you do okay."

"That's a relief to hear."

"Although you do talk a lot when you should be busy making me eggs!" she says. She snatches another kiss and heads towards the bathroom, looking over her shoulder and wiggling her eyebrows.

* * *

The notes reveal Cal's next patient has a piece of Lego jammed up their nose. He rolls his eyes and strides out to reception, hoping the kid is well-behaved and that his parents are suitably apologetic for wasting NHS resources. Inwardly, he scolds himself for the thought. He's always done his best to treat his patients equally, whatever their injury, but months of cuts, minor fractures and stomach bugs have taken their toll. He'd become a doctor to save lives, not to hand out plasters and paracetamol as if they were winning lottery tickets.

He calls his patient, Thomas Jenkins and a man in his mid-twenties stands, alone. Cal raises his eyebrows; _great, the kid is so bratty they've already gone AWOL._ But the man starts walking towards him, showing no sign of looking for a missing child. Cal frowns and dips his head back into the patient notes as subtly as he can. He'd previously neglected to check the date of birth and now he sees it is 1994. His patient, with Lego up his nose, is a fully grown man. Cal's not sure if he's more amused or annoyed.

"So," Cal says, once they're in cubicles. "How did this happen?"

"I have a little brother," Thomas explains. "Zach. He's seven. He did the same thing last week and was trying to convince me that it's easily done." He pauses. "I was of the opinion that something the size of Lego would be simple to pull back out."

"You'd be surprised at the amount of people who get things stuck up their nose."

"They're usually seven, though, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Usually."

"Do you know what's worse?" the patient says. "I brought my girlfriend home to visit my parents and brother for the first time. I was worried they would embarrass me. Turns out I can do that all by myself."

Cal fights back a smile. "Where is she now?"

"With them! Comparing notes no doubt."

"Gives them something to talk about at least."

"It's alright for you," Thomas says. "Doctor, good looking, good pay packet no doubt-"

"Debateable."

"-bet you never have trouble impressing the ladies."

Cal shrugs. It's certainly been longer than he would freely admit to a stranger.

"But for someone like me... I mean, what's my selling point? Slightly overweight, works in a corner shop, can burp the alphabet- well as far as H, anyway. It's hard, man." He shakes his head. "And then, I meet Leah. She's got a proper job, you know, in a salon. Got her own flat, not with her parents still like me. She's got this little dimple in the middle of her chin and, I dunno, it's cute. Even my mate Ash says she alright, and he's got higher standards than the rest of us."

"She sounds like a keeper," Cal says, hoping he sounds polite despite the fact he's desperate to get the Lego removed and the patient discharged.

"But what if this is the final straw that makes her realise she's way out of my league?"

Cal considers reminding him he's a doctor, not a relationship counsellor.

"I dunno, man," Thomas answers himself. "Just get this bloody Lego out my nose so I can get back and convince her not to ditch me."

"Of course," Cal replies, proud of himself for staying so professional. "I'll be right back."

He leaves the cubicle and allows himself a chuckle. He spots Robyn and sidles up to her. "I need an assist with an extraction of a foreign body from a nostril."

"On it," she says. "These kids are always the cutest."

"Except it's an adult," Cal says.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, and if you can somehow find a way to convince him it won't have put his girlfriend off, then that would be much appreciated."

Robyn pulls a face. "I'm hardly the relationship expert."

"Neither am I these days. "He sighs. "Who'd have thought I'd need my brother for this kind of thing!"

"Ethan? Why, is he seeing somebody?"

"Uh. No." Cal stalls. He doesn't want to ruin anything between him and Ethan by revealing something his brother isn't ready to go public with. "He's just… diplomatic, isn't he?"

"I can be diplomatic too, you know," she says.

"Good. I'll, uh, get the forceps ready and meet you in cubicle 3."

Thomas remains on the edge of the bed, his arms folded across his chest. "Not even a text," he says by way of greeting. "It's over, isn't it? I'm an idiot."

"You don't know that," Robyn says, softly.

"What kind of woman would want to go out with a man who sticks Lego up his nose?"

"One with a sense of humour?" Robyn offers. "Or one who's so blindly in love it doesn't bother her?"

He shakes his head sadly.

"Perhaps things will look up once we've got the Lego out," Cal suggests.

"Well they can't look bloody worse."

Cal considers giving the man some perspective, but instead shares a look of resignation with Robyn.

"We'll get you flat," Cal tells his patient, "then I'll numb your nose. You'll just feel a slight prick of a needle."

"A needle?"

"Well, I can do it without pain relief if you prefer?"

"No, no, a needle's fine."

"Good." Cal nods at Robyn and she lowers the bed into a horizontal position. He smoothly injects the anaesthetic and waits while it kicks in. "Okay," he tells Thomas. "I'm going to try to retrieve the Lego. It may feel a bit uncomfortable but it shouldn't hurt."

He places one hand on his patient's cheek for anchorage and gently takes hold of the Lego with pliers. "Thomas, on the count of three, I want you to blow through your nose as hard as you can." He looks to Robyn to check she is ready with the tray for him to place the item onto and the swabs in case of a bleed. "Three… two…" he pinches the other nostril shut. "One."

Thomas blows and with Cal's assistance the Lego glides out of his nose. The brick is covered in blood and snot and he does his best to maintain a neutral expression as he discards of it.

"That's gross," Thomas says, faintly. Blood pours out of his nose.

Robyn steps in with swabs but they do little to ease the flow and so she explains that she'll have to stem it with a tampon.

"Bloody hell," he says. "Just when I thought it couldn't get any more humiliating you're sticking lady products up my nose."

"It'll work, trust me," Robyn says. "And I'd place my money on the fact it's more comfortable than the Lego was."

Thomas falls silent although Cal suspects that's partly because blood is running over his mouth and it would be nearly impossible to speak without tasting it. He watches as Robyn inserts the tampon and wipes the blood from his face. He's confident it'll succeed in stemming the flow and so he politely makes his excuses to leave.

He draws the curtain but nearly collides with a young lady and gets a face full of her heavily perfumed, dyed red hair.

"Leah!" Thomas calls from behind.

"Oh my god, is that a tampon?" she says. She pulls out her phone and taps at a few buttons, holding it up in front of her as a camera.

"Aww, babe, don't film this."

She squawks with laughter. "This is going on Snapchat!"

Cal raises his eyebrows but continues his journey to the nurses station, bemused and feeling suddenly old. He'd wanted a patient that would help him stop missing Resus, but this certainly wasn't the one.

* * *

Alicia shuffles, getting more comfy, then rests back against Ethan's chest. He smiles down at her. The film hadn't been particularly good, but then, he'd barely watched it, too preoccupied with having Alicia pressed against him and her soft hair brushing his arm. She matches his grin and gives him a chaste kiss, nothing like earlier but still enough to send his heart racing.

She pulls his arms tighter around her and uses her nail to draw patterns on his palm.

"That tickles," he says.

"Ticklish, huh? I'll remember that one."

He pulls a face. "Is it too late to retract that?"

"Oh definitely," she says, but she stops what she was doing, instead clasping his hand in hers and stating intently at them. "Ethan," she continues, her voice quiet and suddenly serious, "are we, you know…"

He waits for her to finish, not wanting to mess things up by assuming where her sentence is going.

"… _together_ now?

His lips graze the top of her head, surprising himself by how automatic it was. "I'd like us to be," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, really." He pauses. "If- if that's what you want too?"

She wriggles again so that she's facing him but his arms are still around her. "Well, you make good scrambled eggs."

He laughs. "I didn't realise that was the deal breaker."

"Oh, yeah, right at the top of my list. A guy who can cook."

"You have a list?" he asks.

"Teasing. But it can't hurt! They say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach, why should us women be any different?"

"No, I suppose-"

"Good in the kitchen _and_ good in the bedroom, now that's the dream."

His lips part, unsure how to respond.

She grins at him, revelling in his embarrassment. Her hand traces his jaw. "Don't worry, you fit the part."

He gives a nervous smile, sure his cheeks are still burning. "So are we going to tell people? You know, at work?"

"What, about you being good in-?"

He cuts her off with a huff of amusement. "I meant about us being together. Only, it's just a matter of time before Cal spills the beans and I'd rather we didn't become rumour material."

"Yeah, we can tell people," she says, softly. "I don't think I'd be any good at keeping it hidden, anyway."

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leaves his hand lingering at the side of her face. "Me neither."

Their lips meet and even though it's little over a week since the first time they did that, it feels natural.

"Can I take you out?" he asks. "On a proper date?"

"I'd like that."

"Good." He smiles. "Where shall we-?"

He's cut off by the vibrating of his phone next to him on the sofa. He glances at the screen. It's Cal. He pushes it away from him, letting it get caught in the folds of the sofa, but Alicia sits upright and tells him he can get it if he needs to.

The ringing ends and starts again almost instantly. Ethan accepts the second call and holds the phone to his ear.

"Hey."

His brother doesn't reply straight away but Ethan can hear him take a shaky breath.

"Something's happened," Cal says.

* * *

Cal's not sure how or why it happened, but Thomas leaves the cubicle hand in hand with Leah and tell-tale lipstick smudges on his cheek. They remained attached as they wave to him and Cal, amusement tingling on his lips, lifts his own arm in a return goodbye. It's a different kind of miracle to those he's used to during his shift, but somehow sticking a piece of Lego up his nose has solidified Thomas's relationship. Cal thinks he might suggest it to his brother, if only to see the reaction.

He's thrown from his thoughts by a scream. He turns and sees the paramedics pushing a stretcher clearly bound for Resus. His body instinctively twitches but he knows there's no point running to greet it like he used to. Connie's yet to permit him to attend to the emergency cases, although he's not sure what more he can do to prove his capabilities.

The pained whimpers continue to fill the room and Cal notices another patient craning their neck in concern as Robyn tries to usher her into a cubicle. He gives a reassuring smile. It's not that the noise doesn't affect him but he knows that it's a positive sign. It's the silent ones who are critical. Crying is more often a result of fear than severity of injuries. He's used to the sound.

What he's not used to, however, is his colleague exceeding the patient's volume to call his name. Cal takes a step forward and then stops. Iain is wide-eyed and breathless but he's going to have to find someone else, a doctor who's allowed in Resus.

"Cal," Iain shouts again. "Cal." His voice cracks this time. "It's Lily."

Cal's stomach lurches. He stumbles into pace with the trolley, his eyes on the occupant. Lily's face is bloodied and although she's conscious, it's clear she has no idea where she is. She struggles and her sobs grow louder as she fails to free herself from the neck brace.

"What happened?"

"We found her unconscious in a car park." Iain speaks so fast, his sentence is barely distinguishable. "Unable to determine the cause but we think it's a hit and run."

"Right." Cal says. He looks around, desperate for someone who can help. "Uh."

"She has facial swelling, bruising to the ribs and chest, signs of-"

"Iain. Iain." Cal stalls him before he can complete the full handover. "I- I can't- I'm not meant to-"

"It's Lily," Iain says as if that invalidates everything else. "Look, I know you two-"

"It's not that." At another of Lily's cries, his hand flies to his head. He means it; their differences have nothing to do with his current hesitance. He takes another frantic sweep of the E.D. There's no-one who can help her but him. "Fuck it, come on," he says.

"Good man," Iain says as they crash through the doors of Resus. "You ready?"

"Tell me."

"Signs of cerebral irritation," Iain continues, sounding shaky. "GCS of eight on arrival but it's now increased to thirteen. Pulse is 120, BP 100 over 60, sats 98% on oxygen."

"Okay," Cal says. "Let's get her onto the bed."

His heart is still hammering in uncertainty but decides transferring a patient while he comes up with a plan can't hurt. Over his shoulder, Dylan and Elle are elbow deep in blood, treating a haemorrhage and don't have time to acknowledge his unpermitted presence. Louise is unnaturally quiet as she registers who the patient is. Only Charlie raises an eyebrow as he joins them.

"I know, Charlie," Cal snaps. "But what option do I have? Everyone else is busy."

"We'll page someone," the nurse responds. "But in the meantime…" he gives a nod.

Cal knows it's not up to Charlie to decide whether he's allowed to work in Resus but his approval encourages him. He retrieves his stethoscope from around his neck and holds it to Lily's chest. His mind is racing and he feels rusty but the routine prompts him.

"Lily, it's Cal," he says. She's still thrashing on the bed, crying loudly, and he can't tell if she recognises him. "Try to stay calm, okay? We're going to get you sorted."

He glances at the monitor and then at Iain, by the door, hands in his hair. He's heard the rumours that something was going on between them, but not witnessed it until now, too busy avoiding Lily. He knows how his friend must feel; he's been there himself, with Ethan, then Matilda and Emilie.

"Right, we need a head and pelvis CT," he instructs Louise.

She looks at Lily, shaking her head. "We'll never get her in the scanner like that."

"No." He sighs deeply. He doesn't want to make the decision but Lily isn't calming by herself and he's running out of options. "Uh, we'll have to sedate and intubate." It sounds like it's a question.

"Sure?" Louise asks.

Cal shakes his head, frowning. He's remembers when the course of treatment used to be obvious to him. He wonders how many months it's been since he was last making life and death decisions.

"BP's dropping," Charlie says. "Cal?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think. Resus feels like it's spinning around him. He chances another look towards his fellow doctors. They're still fighting to save their patient and there's no sign of whoever Charlie paged. It's just him. Just him, and he doesn't know what to do.

"Cal?"

He blinks. Charlie, Louise and Iain are all staring at him expectantly. He considers asking them for advice but no words come out, besides he knows it's unfair to put that on a nurse or paramedic when he, a so-called doctor, can't decide. Another wail from Lily diverts his attention. He can see that despite her distress she's weakening. Her eyes are damp and she's pale and clammy.

"Okay," he says. "Okay. I'm going to intubate. And then let's do a- a repeat twelve lead ECG."

His colleagues dive into action and he's grateful for their support. He takes a deep breath to steady his shaking hands and accepts the sedative filled syringe from Louise. Lily's screaming gradually subsides but he remembers his thought from earlier, about how it's the silent patients you have to worry about, and his own windpipe seems to tighten as he tilts her head and feeds the intubation tube down her throat.

"Good, well done," Charlie says.

"Uh, the ECG, please, Charlie."

He steps back from the bed and lets the nurses work. He jumps as Iain claps him on the back. They exchange a glance. Lily has stabilised but only slightly and Cal can't manage even the most cautious of smiles. He wondered if this was how Lily felt treating him as he battled death. He's surprised by the stab of sympathy he feels as he realises it was probably worse for her, out on the field in the midst of a disaster.

"Here," Charlie says, passing him the results from the ECG.

Cal scans it and feels his shoulders slump. "Ventricular ectopics."

"BP's dropping again."

He takes a final glance at Lily's readings and hastens to her side. "Looks like a bundle branch block," he says. "Give her an extra 200ml of normal saline."

As he waits to see if her condition improves, his eyes linger on Lily's face. Unconscious, bloodied and surviving off artificial ventilation she looks more vulnerable than he's ever imagined her. She looks nothing like the Lily he thought he knew, the villain he's hated for months.

"No change," Charlie says, grimly.

"Yeah, I suspect a myocardial intrusion. Potentially hyperkenesis." He shakes his head, desperate.

"BPs really low, Cal."

"I know." He growls. "Where's the back-up, Charlie?"

"Forget the back-up," the nurse instructs. "You can do this."

"She's in VT," Louise says suddenly.

"Crap." Cal's eyes shoot to the monitor. "We need to shock her." He hears Iain groan behind him and the noise hits him in the chest. They can't lose her. He can't be responsible for her death. Charlie disconnects the ventilator and it snaps him into action. "Okay, stand clear… And shocking." He holds the paddles to Lily's chest and her body jerks.

"Still in VT."

"Okay, charging again. Stand clear… Shocking."

There's a moments silence.

"Back in Sinus," Charlie says.

Cal releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He senses that they'd all done the same. His legs are shaking now, the adrenaline's finally taken over.

"Okay," he manages. "Okay, good. Let's do another ECG and, uh, 300ml of amiodarone. I want ten minute obs and can someone call both CT and ITU. She'll need a bed as soon as one's available."

He takes a few steps backwards, finally allowing himself to relax. He senses someone by his side and turns, expecting to exchange a few words of relief with Iain.

Instead, it's Mrs Beauchamp. He shuts his eyes and grimaces.

"Doctor Knight," she says. "I don't recall permitting you back in Resus!"

"You didn't," he replies, barely audibly.

There's a beat of silence. "How is she?"

"Stable." He chances a glance at Connie and is relieved to see her expression is soft. "She went into VT following multiple ventricular ectopics. We've haven't managed to get her to CT yet but with the rhythms and the low BP, I'm almost certain it was myocardial intrusion." He takes a deep breath and Connie nods for him to go on. "I'm also concerned about the head injury. She was very distressed, very confused… uh, we'll know more after the scans but I'd want to check thoroughly for any intracranial bleed."

"Okay," Connie says. "I can take over from here. Go and wait for me in my office please."

Cal hesitates. He wants to stay, even if it's just an observational capacity, to see that Lily is going to pull through.

"Doctor Knight," she says, in that tone he dreads.

"Fine, I'm going!" He rolls his eyes as he turns, knowing, but not caring, that the action's likely to get him in further trouble.

He lets the Resus doors clatter behind him and then heads, not to Mrs Beauchamp's office but to the staff room to retrieve his phone. He sinks onto the battered sofa. His head feels heavy with sudden exhaustion and he lets it fall into his open hands. He hadn't known if he was capable of saving her. He had honestly thought, at one point, that she was going to die. She'd been deteriorating in front of him and he'd wondered if their last conversation was one when he was cruel. He feels dampness on his palms and he balls his hands into fists, using them to wipe at his eyes. His head aches from the conflicting thoughts both medical and emotional.

Through bleary eyes, he selects his brother's name from his contact list, and wills him to answer. He doesn't and so Cal presses call again, hoping persistence will pay off.

"Hey," Ethan says.

Cal tries to return the greeting but other words spill out his mouth. "Something's happened," he tells him.

"What? Caleb, are you okay?"

He can hear the panic in his brother's voice. "Yeah. Yeah I'm fine." He takes a deep breath. "It's Lily. She, uh, she was brought in. Hit by a car."

"She, what?" There's a murmur in the background as Alicia becomes aware of the conversation. "How is she?"

"Stable. Ventilated. Waiting on scans and then a bed in ITU." He swallows. "Ethan, I treated her."

"You did? What, in Resus? But, I thought-"

"Yeah, I know. No-one else was available."

"And- and..?"

"Well, Beauchamp's about to slaughter me," he says. "But I don't care. I _had_ to. I wasn't going to let her die because of some stupid rule."

"No, of course not."

"Why did it have to be _Lily_?" He brushes away a tear from the corner of his eye. "I was so rusty, Ethan. I froze. And I just kept thinking, if she dies- if she… well, everyone knows what's been going on between us, don't they? If she died because I screwed up, it would look like I did it on purpose. Payback."

Ethan's silent for a moment. "That didn't happen," he says, quietly. "No-one would think that."

Cal's head falls forwards onto his chest. "I don't even feel angry with her now. Just… sad for her, for what happened today."

"Do you want me to come in and get you, Caleb?

Cal shrugs despite the fact Ethan can't see him. He wants his little brother instinctively, it's always Ethan who puts things right. But he knows it's pointless dragging him into work on his day off to fix a problem that doesn't even exist considering Lily's still alive.

"No, I'm fine," he says. "I just thought you should know."

"If you're sure?"

"Yeah. I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay. But Cal, well done. You may have been rusty and- and upset, but you saved her."

Cal manages a watery smile. He ends the call and lets his eyes fall shut but barely lasts a minute before he hears a familiar cough.

"This doesn't look much like my office."

"I needed to let my brother know what's happened."

"Okay." She sits down on the sofa next to him, looking completely out of place among the mismatch cushions. "Cal-"

"Look, I'm sorry, alright?" he says. "I didn't want to do it but I had to. Everyone else was tied up."

"I know. Charlie explained. He said you did some good work in there."

"Really?" He leans forwards, elbows on his thighs. "So Lily's going to be-?"

"All indications are positive," she says. "There's no sign of internal bleeding and her blood pressure has stabilised."

"Good."

"They'll be taking her up to ITU in the next half an hour. Then we wait and we hope."

He nods, frowning. Waiting has never been something he was good at.

"Cal, your shift's nearly over. We've got cover if you want to go home."

"I'd rather stay," he says. "In case there's news on Lily."

"I thought you'd say that." She climbs to her feet and gives him a thin lipped smile. "For what it's worth, I'd never usually condone you breaking the rules, but you did the right thing today."

"Mrs Beauchamp," he says, taking his chance and standing to face her. "I need to get some Resus experience again. Whatever Charlie says, I know I wasn't on top of my game today. I was out of practice."

She looks at him but her expression is unreadable. She plays with a bit of lace on the cuff of her sleeve. "Okay," she says. "One day a week. Under supervision, at first, by another registrar or a consultant."

He nods, too exhausted to figure out whether that's a good or bad offer. "Fine," he says. "Deal."


	22. Chapter 22

I have two writing modes, one where the story bursts out, telling itself, and the other where it feels like I'm having to drag every word from nowhere. The first part of this chapter was the former and the second part the latter - I can really tell the difference when reading it but I hope it's not too noticeable to you all. Definitely a few contrived situations in the second half too but it's not as if that never happens in Casualty, right?

I'd really appreciate if you can leave me a quick review letting me know what you think. Lily fans, hope you enjoy this chapter, I've not really written her before but have tried my best.

 **casfics:** Ahhh I'm so happy you liked that part - I'd hoped you might as I know you're a big fan of Ethan and Alicia together. And yes, your memory is correct, _however_ , I've moved things around a little so don't panic we're not at the Scott part... yet! ;) Thank you so much for reviewing and hope you enjoy the update.

 **pxnic-at-mxdnight:** Thank you so much! I was nervous about posting that scene but it was fun to write so I'd glad it turned out okay. You may have been fairly accurate with that guess, only one way to find out haha. Thank you for your support, I really appreciate it. Hope you like this chapter too.

* * *

22.

* * *

Cal lingers outside the hospital room, careful to keep his back flat against the wall, hidden from the occupant's view. A nurse walks past him and shoots him with a suspicious look. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and loads an app but scrolling only serves as a disguise, not a distraction. His heart is hammering against his ribcage and he shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it.

He turns to glance over his shoulder, through the gaps in the horizontal blinds. Lily is drowned by a hospital gown, propped upright in bed by more white pillows than he's sure is the standard allocation. Her usually pristine hair is scraped into a messy ponytail and a nasal oxygen cannula obscures her face but she still looks much better than last time he saw her. He watches for a second too long and another figure comes into the frame: Iain, sliding his elbows across his knees and letting his hands fall down on the mattress just millimetres from Lily's.

Cal turns back. Perhaps it was naïve of him considering Iain's reaction when Lily was brought in, but he'd expected her to be on her own. He takes a deep breath, frowning, pondering his next move. But his head is pulled back, like a puppet, and he watches their silent movie of a conversation as their expressions flit between tender and tense. His body follows and next thing he's aware of is his fist rapping sharply on the door, louder than he had anticipated.

The door is lined with more of the horizontal blinds, a prevalent feature in the upper floors of the hospital that he's never noticed before, and his eye line perfectly falls between two slats. He sees the moment Lily and Iain acknowledge him and how their eyes flicker back to each other before Lily calls for him to come in. She sounds like her normal self and Cal wonders why that surprises him.

He pushes open the door but remains in the entrance as he addresses Iain. "Uh, mate, can I have a minute?" he asks.

Iain looks to Lily for his answer. Even after her nod he takes a few seconds before climbing to his feet, not bothering to hide his reluctance. "I'll be outside."

Although Iain's eyes are on Lily, Cal can't help but feel as though the statement is directed towards him. He pulls a face at the warning and then immediately regrets it. He doesn't want to start the conversation on the wrong foot, however applicable the pun. He waits until the door is closed then takes the single seat by Lily's bed, focusing on her hospital wristband rather than risk seeing the cuts on her forehead or the pain in her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Better," she says, crisp, to the point and Cal suspects only partially truthful.

"Good. I'm glad."

There's a silence during which the only noise is the steady beeping of the monitor attached to Lily.

"Why are you here, Cal?"

Her question shocks him into looking directly at her. She's not fearful, like she's been around him since he's started his crusade against her, and neither is she upset. But one eyebrow is slanted in curiosity and her hands are locked together in her lap.

"Uh," he starts. "I just… wanted to see how you were doing."

"You could have asked someone," she points out. "Why are you _here_?"

His shoulders slump. His good leg bounces in a repetitive distraction. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

He's silent again. His jaw locks and he swallows, inadvertently gulping down words along with stale tasting saliva.

"Iain said you treated me. He says you saved my life." Lily pushes herself further upright and holds her hand towards him. "For that, thank you."

Cal accepts her hand, though it's less of a handshake and more of a squeeze. He nods into his lap and gives a half-hearted shrug.

"You saved my life, I saved yours. We're even now." He pauses. "Well, kinda. You've still got both your legs, don't worry."

There's a pause. Their hands stretch to cold fingertips and then separate altogether.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Lily asks.

"Uh, yeah. Ill-timed, I know."

"It wasn't funny."

"That too." He rubs at the back of his head. "Look, Lily, after all these months I think I'm finally ready to talk." He pauses. "If that's still what you want."

"Go on," she says, softly.

His lips move into the start of a sentence but then he stalls. Amid the racing thoughts in his mind, he knows he wants to do this properly. He straightens his back and forces himself to meet her eyes before speaking.

"Ethan told me I was grieving," he says. "For my leg. I thought he'd read too many self-help leaflets." He manages half a smile but again the joke falls flat. "Maybe he was right, I- I don't know. I suppose whatever term you use, it doesn't change the facts." He takes a deep breath. "I blamed you for what happened to me. You know that, though, don't you? How could you not."

Lily doesn't reply but he sees something in her eyes that encourages him to continue.

"I was in a bad place at first. I mean, I completely fell apart. I didn't know who I was any more or what my future held and I didn't really have any interest in finding out." He shakes his head. "I sort of flitted between angry and numb. It felt like my life was over." He looks away but just for a second while he composes himself. "Even when I found a way to work through that, to start trying to get some independence back, exercising, learning to walk again, it was just a process. Some days were brighter than others but it was _hard_. I could only focus on how I didn't want to be in that position, how I wanted my old life back."

Lily's gaze falls away from his, her chin on her chest, exhaustion creeping into her brow and Cal's guilt stirs, but for a different reason this time.

"Look, this is bad timing, isn't it?" he says. "I can go."

"Don't."

"You're not well."

Lily shrugs. "I'm fine. Please continue. I want to hear."

He can't help checking the monitor to make sure she's telling the truth. He knows it's an annoying habit, he'd told Ethan off for checking his notes several times during his own hospital stay.

But reassured by what he sees, he gives a slight nod. "Okay. I'm sure you've got the picture anyway. I just wanted to explain that I wasn't in the right frame of mind to ever look at the positives. I never saw it as the day my life was saved only the- the day I lost my leg."

Lily expression changes as she slowly digests what he said. "And now?"

"I don't know."

"You must know how you feel," she says.

"I don't," he repeats. "That's the problem." He drags a hand across his eyes. "I still get angry sometimes; at the kid who flew the drone, at Ethan when he flaps because I've run out of clean socks for the prosthesis or I'm going a bit too fast on my crutches, at my physio for expecting me to do things that I _can't_ and at strangers on the street who look at me twice when I'm wearing shorts." He pauses, giving himself a chance to breath. "At myself too," he says quietly, "for doing everything I did to get this karma, for limping when I'm tired, for not being one of those people that faces adversity and comes out of it stronger."

"What makes you think the latter _doesn't_ apply to you?" Lily asks.

Cal snorts. "How can it?" He looks down at his hands. There's a bit of dirt under his nail and he picks it out and flicks it to the floor. There's probably some hygiene law against doing that in a hospital but he's never cared much for rules.

"You are still a doctor," Lily says, as if that's all that matters.

"Yeah, and I get in trouble for something every other shift."

"And how's that any different to before?"

He looks up in surprise. She's smiling at him, albeit weakly, and he finds his own lips curving upwards.

"Lily," he says. "The main reason I'm here… I wanted to- to apologise. For the way I've been treating you."

His words seem to smack her, for she flinches and tears spring into her eyes. "No. No, I don't deserve-"

"You do."

"Cal, I need you to understand, I didn't _want_ to do it. The area was a mess; Ethan was panicking, every other doctor was tied up with another patient. I was on my own to make the decision and it was the hardest one of my career. Possibly of my entire life." Her voice cracks on the final syllable. "But difficult as it would have been to treat you out there, if I thought there was any chance of your leg being saved, I would have done that. You know that amputations are only ever a last resort."

Cal nods, hoping the ferocity of the movement makes up for his lack of words. It's still hard to hear the details of what happened even now he's come to terms with it.

"I'm sorry too," Lily continues. "I wish there had been another option."

"But that's not your fault."

He sees Lily raise her eyebrows and suspects his own face is a mirror of surprise.

"I should have realised that sooner," he continues," but the crash was an accident and I think I needed a person to blame. You were the easy target. You- you _did_ it and then afterwards, even when I thought I was coping okay, I could still see it in your eyes every time you looked at me and that took me right back there."

"Then that is where I am culpable."

"It haunted you too, didn't it?"

Lily's eyelashes flutter shut. She visibly takes a deep breath. "Of course." She pauses. "Have- have you ever performed an amputation?"

"Once."

"Then that's the same amount as me."

He runs his hand over his face. He hadn't even considered that it may have been Lily's first. He remembers the leg he once amputated, higher than his, the result of a crush injury between a van and a building when he had been the doctor on scene. The procedure itself had been tough, splintering bones, major blood loss, and that wasn't to mention the devastation on the patient's face just before he passed out. Cal had got very drunk that night and Ethan's arms had been the only things preventing him from falling headfirst into a pile of his own vomit.

"Cal," Lily says, "What changed?"

"Hm?"

"If… you no longer blame me."

"Yesterday," he repeats, confident for the first time during the conversation. "Treating you. I just wanted to keep you alive, whatever it took." His eyes sting and he looks at Lily through blurry vision. "It made me realise, what you did for me, when I was critical…" he takes a deep breath. "It was the right decision. I would have done the same."

Lily sags and Cal realises it's the first time in months he's seen her look relaxed. He realises he must have taken a huge weight off her. She fidgets, shifting her position so her knees are bent and she's angled towards him.

"Thank you for saying that."

"I meant it." He pauses. "Listen, we can't change what happened. This is my life now. But-"

"But we can change what happens next," she interrupts, softly but sounding sure.

"Stole the words right from my mouth."

Someone knocks at the door and they both flinch slightly, the reminder of the real world shattering the intimacy of the conversation. Iain, open mouthed, mimes something to Lily. From the angle Cal is at he can't tell what he said, but he guesses it's something like _hurry up_ or _Cal's not being a jerk again, is he?_

"Just a minute," Lily calls and Iain's silhouette disappears.

"What's going on between you two then?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "How on earth am I supposed to know?"

"Come on," he grins. "You must know how you feel," he teases, mimicking her words from earlier.

Lily suddenly becomes very interested in the off-white blanket covering her legs. "It's not just about how I feel though, is it?"

"He was a mess," Cal says, serious now. "I've never seen him so worried. That's a man who cares about you, I know that much."

She wrinkles her nose, pink-cheeked.

"I'm just saying, if you're going to tell him then do it while you can use the sick, injured patient thing to your advantage."

Although she still looks uncomfortable, she stifles a laugh. "And, with that, it's time for you to go," she jokes.

He huffs his amusement but decides she's right. "It's been good to see you, Lily," he says.

"You too," she says.

Her tone is delicate and as he meets her eyes she gives a slight smile that gives him confidence she understood the deeper meaning of his sentence. It was good to see her in the way he used to, not as the enemy.

* * *

Ethan finishes with the ultrasound and passes his patient a wad of paper towels to wipe the gel from her expanded abdomen.

"Well," he says. "Shanice, I'm pleased to announce everything is perfectly fine with your baby."

She looks up at him, eyes wide, incredulous, and for a moment Ethan loves the part of his job where he brings people good news for once.

Then she shakes her head. Dark curls fall into her face. "Not being rude, Doctor, but you know nothing."

He turns to exchange a glance with Duffy. "Well, I'm no obstetrician but Nurse Duffin here is a very experienced midwife and if I'd have had any reservations about your baby's health I would have consulted our Obs and Gynae specialists."

"It may be healthy," Shanice says, "but nothing is _fine_ with this baby.

Ethan shares another concerned look with the nurse.

"Is there anything we can help with?" Duffy asks.

Shanice raises her eyebrows. "Single, pregnant and homeless at 22. I mean, that's quite a mess to solve, right?"

"There are people you can talk to-" Ethan starts

"People that don't want to listen. I get it; I'm just a number to them, one person of hundreds in the same boat." She looks down at her bump and somehow the new angle exposes the youth in her face. "I thought I was different, though. I thought I'd be okay."

Duffy tries an encouraging smile. "You _will_ be."

"Me and Jamie were together since we were sixteen. It's not like when my friend Mia got knocked up by that dealer. We were strong. And when I told him I was pregnant, he was so happy, at first. I did all the right things, you know, stopped smoking, stopped drinking, quit the bar job and got a sensible position as a receptionist at a gym. I even started taking multi-vitamins for the first time in my life!" She gives a sad smile. "I thought, we may be young, we may not have planned on having a baby, but we can do this."

"That's a really admirable attitude," Duffy soothes.

"Yeah, but then it all went wrong, didn't it? My folks kicked me out but that was no surprise. I went to Jamie's. His mum was always kind to me. We didn't tell her at first but then I started showing so we couldn't put it off any longer. It was weird. His mum just went really quiet and almost, kinda… _green_. And then, she rushed Jamie out the door and they didn't come back to really late that night. And then Jamie's saying to me, like he's brainwashed or something, that I should get an abortion." She looks up, outraged, but there's damp pooling in her eyes. "But I tell him straight, I love this baby, I ain't getting rid." She shrugs. "So he tells me to leave. I don't get it, right. He was so happy and then- then it was like some _alien_ replaced him. I know that sounds mad, but that's what it was like."

Ethan's forehead creases with sympathy. "Where are you staying now?"

"With Mia. But her little Lacie-May is teething which is like a horror story of what's to come!" she gives a forced laugh. "Also my midwife says I can't be sleeping on a sofa in my condition."

"She's not wrong."

"Yeah, and I want to do the best for my baby. I do!" Shanice says, sounding desperate. "But those hostels aren't safe. I just don't get where me and Jamie went wrong."

"We could call him for you if you like?"

"He wouldn't come."

"You don't know that. If he knows that you've had a fall…"

Shanice chews her lip as she considers. "You don't just stop caring about someone, do you?" she says, hopefully.

Ethan excuses himself and leaves his young patient debating with Duffy whether she wants her ex-boyfriend to be contacted. He's treated perspective mums in all shapes and sizes and knows neither age or relationship status determine the ability to look after a child, yet he can't help but feel that there's more to her story than meets the eye.

He's so deep in thought that he doesn't see David approaching. The nurse stops abruptly in front of him and Ethan looks up just in time to see worry written in the wrinkles across his forehead.

"Ah, Doctor Hardy," he says. "I need you. It's Sabina Bhatti."

Ethan frowns. He's sure he doesn't have a patient with that name. "Um, sorry-"

"Ah. Yes. Perhaps I should… never mind. I still-"

"David," Ethan interrupts. "Who's Sabina Bhatti?"

David stoops so that their heights match. "You treated her father last week. Arjun Bhatti."

"Yes, yes, I remember." Ethan pictures the man, mid-fifties but aged by illness, calm and dignified. His heart sinks. "We lost him, didn't we? End-stage pancreatic cancer." He gives a sigh that deflates him. "And this is his daughter, you say?"

"Just arrived home from working in the United States." He nods grimly towards the door of the relative's room. "She's asking to speak with whoever treated her father."

"Right," Ethan says. He tugs on the bottom of his scrub top and then wonders why he thinks a grieving daughter would care about the crumples in his uniform.

He takes over from David and pushes open the door of the relative's room. Immediately, the woman turns to face him. She's tall, slim and not much older than he is. Her hair hangs limply around her make-up free face yet Ethan suspects it's rare for her to be this natural in public. Even damp eyed and trembling she somehow holds the aura of someone high-powered and successful, a business woman or solicitor, he imagines.

"Ms Bhatti," he says. "My name is Doctor Hardy. Shall we take a seat?"

She remains standing. She holds herself awkwardly, hands positioned in front of her chest, pulling her long sleeves down over her fingers.

Ethan recognises the nervous gesture as something to do when everything else is uncertain and tries again to guide her to the sofa. "Shall we-?"

"You were with my dad when- when he..?" she stammers.

"I was the doctor in charge of your father's care here at the E.D," he says. He would rather she sat down. Not only does it put them in a more comforting position but he's never forgotten the time, early in his days as a doctor, when a woman had fainted upon hearing of her husband's passing.

"Nobody told me," she says. She's onto her hair now, threading the dark strands between her fingers. "I didn't even know he was ill. I've been working abroad and not one of them thought to tell me." A tear traces her cheek and she doesn't bother to wipe it away. "I would have been on the first flight home. I could have had the chance to spend time with him. To- to say goodbye."

Ethan reaches for the box of tissues that someone, he suspects Duffy, makes sure is always full well stocked, and passes her one.

"Sorry," she says, her voice breaking. "I don't know why I came here. I just needed to- to…"

"Is there anything I can do? Any questions you have?"

"Not that you'll be able to answer." She finally moves to the sofa, scrunching the tissue in her hand. "Apparently my dad made the decision not to tell me. So none of my questions can ever be answered now."

Ethan perches next to her on the edge of the sofa. "When my adoptive mother found out she was terminally ill, my brother was working abroad, just like you. She didn't want to tell him for fear he would sabotage his career to come home for her."

Sabina dabs at her eyes before looking at him. "And- and did she..?"

"No, I told him before it was too late. And he didn't come home. At that point, anyway." He pauses; he's forgiven Cal now but that hasn't completely erased how angry he'd felt at the time. "Is there a chance your dad would have felt similarly?"

"Perhaps. He was so proud when I got the promotion." Her lips quirk at the memory. "And I do love my job but not as much as I love my dad."

"Of course."

"They should have told me. It should have been _my_ choice. And it still would have felt like my heart has fallen out of my chest, but at least I would have known before it happened." She buries her head in her hands and her shoulders shake. "I don't know how to do this."

"There's no right way," Ethan says softly.

"My mum and my brothers want me to be with them. But how can I?"

"If their hearts were in the right place?" he suggests.

"They lied to me. They had hundreds of opportunities to tell me and they didn't. Something so huge! How can I trust anything they say now?"

Ethan stays respectfully silent. He understands her perspective on a far deeper level than he is willing to admit. After Cal neglected to tell him about their birth mother, he'd thought their relationship was irreparable. And yet all that pain hasn't deterred him from keeping the biggest secret of all, not from Cal but from Alicia and most of his friends. He gulps. His own illness is nowhere near as progressed as Sabina's father's was when he hid it.

She lifts her head. "Will you tell me what it was like for him? At- at the end?"

"He wouldn't have been in much pain, just tired," Ethan says. "Your family were with him and someone played a song on their phone, his favourite from the sound of things."

"An old Indian song?"

"I think so, yes."

"So they were telling the truth about that, at least."

He pauses long enough to offer Sabina another tissue. "It was peaceful and as private as we could manage to arrange."

"Thank you for looking after him and for speaking to me today."

"Oh, my pleasure."

"And for what it's worth, Doctor. Telling your brother, even though your mum didn't want to… I think that was the right thing. Secrets cause pain."

He nods rather than speaks, not wanting to reveal how strongly he agrees.

The patients that follow, a broken finger, grazed forehead, and a teenager with bad period pain, aren't enough to distract him from the conversation with Sabina. He's grieved for two parents now and yet it's her comments about lying and secrets that stick with him the most. He knows she's right; people deserve the truth, no matter how hard it is to hear.

"Doctor Hardy, it's Shanice," Duffy calls, finally snapping him from his thoughts. "Panic attack."

"Foetal heartrate?" he asks as he rushes towards the cubicle.

"There's no compromise," she replies.

"Good."

Ethan whips the curtain to the side. Shanice is bent double, oxygen mask slipping from her mouth and tears falling as she gasps for breath. He repositions the mask and opens his mouth to count her back to a healthy breathing rate.

"I'm sorry!" A frantic voice comes from the right.

Ethan looks to see a man of similar age to Shanice, backed up against the curtain of the adjoining cubicle. He's wide-eyed and his hands are locked in his hair. Ethan shakes his head and turns back to his patient. "Try to slow your breaths," he says. "In… two, three. And out… two, three, that's it, keep going, in-"

"I didn't mean to!" the young man continues. "I didn't know this would happen. She asked for the truth. I just-"

"Now's not the time," Duffy tells him, gently.

Ethan glances to the monitor. Shanice's respiratory rates are improving but only slighting. "You're doing really well," he tells her. "Keep focusing on your breathing. In…yes. And out…"

She pulls the oxygen mask away from her mouth. "He- he said my baby's got some disease! Is it true? Can you tell?"

"Um," Ethan says. He looks to the man for clarity. "What's this?"

"I said _might have_!"

"No, Jamie, you said-"

"Jamie, is it?" Ethan interrupts, knowing talking isn't going to help Shanice's breathlessness. "You're the father?"

"I- yeah."

"Okay, so I'm sure you understand that to keep baby healthy, we need to keep mum healthy. So if you presence is upsetting Shanice, I will have to ask you to leave."

"I want to stay," he says. He takes a step closer to the bed. "Babe, please."

"Just tell him," Shanice says, indicating Ethan as she takes another rasping breath. "Tell him what you told me. I need someone who can make some sense out of it."

Jamie sighs, his hands falling limply to his side. "Fine," he says. "But I don't get it either." He looks up at Ethan, revealing fearful eyes. "My mum says my dad had this illness – Motor Neurone Disease. You know it?"

Ethan nods, his chest clenching. Of course he's heard of it but that Jamie felt he had to check just goes to show how foreign everything must feel to the two perspective parents.

"He died when I was two. I don't remember him and no-one ever told me before what happened." He takes a shaky breath. "Then Shan got pregnant and mum said that I might have the same thing that he had. Or, even if I don't, I could still pass it on. Does that even make sense?"

"You can be a carrier without experiencing any symptoms, yes."

"Well, I Googled it," he says. "Sounds nasty. I don't want a child of mine going through that."

"That's why he told me to get an abortion," Shanice says. "Didn't tell me why though."

Ethan takes a deep breath. "Jamie, perhaps your mum should have done some more research, spoke to the experts. There is a chance, yes, you could have passed it on, but only a very small chance. And even if you or your child has the gene mutation, there is still no guarantee it will develop into Motor Neurone Disease."

"So, my baby could be fine."

"There's a strong possibility they will be."

"See!" Shanice glares at Jamie. "Lucky I didn't do what _you_ wanted."

He bites at his bottom lip. "How do we find out for definite?"

"There are tests," Ethan says. "But there are risks involved with an unborn baby. I can put you in touch with the relevant people if you'd like me to, and they'll explore all options with you."

"Okay." He nods. "Thank you."

"But, whatever the outcome, please remember that this is no-one's fault." Ethan shoulders slump in sympathy. "Trust me on this, I know."

Shanice sniffs noisily. "You still should have told me."

"I'm sorry, I freaked out." Jamie moves closer to the bed. "I just wish my mum had told me years ago then we could have been prepared before you even got pregnant."

Ethan leaves the cubicle, blinking firmly, wondering how it's possible for him to be leaning towards Shanice's side when he's worse than Jamie. The young man had done nothing wrong, no idea of the potential diagnosis. Yet Ethan has been sleeping with Alicia, knowing what he could pass on to any offspring and keeping her blissfully in the dark.

He survives the rest of his shift by keeping conversation to a minimum and makes it to the sanctuary of his car as fast as he can. He remains parked, too drained to do anything other than slump back against the headrest. His stomach churns. It could be from the day or it could be the odour in the car. A few days ago Cal had met him outside a late physio session with a packet of vinegary chips and, after a five minute battle and a few large drops of rain, Ethan had reluctantly let him into the car with them. The air-conditioner around his rear-view mirror has proven itself as completely ineffective against their lingering fragrance.

He's in his preferred parking space at the rear of the carpark where there is often a double bay space to manoeuvre in. Behind him, the main road roars with passing traffic. He focuses on the noncommittal drone but after the first few seconds it fails to drown his thoughts. He brings his head forwards and rests it on the top of the steering wheel. If every day had its own lesson, yesterday's may have been that the fifth coffee is never a good idea, but today's is a lot darker.

He's been lied to before and knows how it feels. Some were insignificant such as Lily pretending she'd enjoyed his attempt at a Thai-green curry, and some had paled over time such like when his ex-girlfriend Lucy lied about cheating on him. Other lies he could forgive but never forget and most of those were to do with Cal. More significantly were the lies his mothers told him, neglecting to mention he was adopted or at risk of a genetically inherited disease. Those hurt the most for he's still living them now.

Ethan groans, a long and loud groan that seems to echo around the car. He lifts his head, checking no inhabitants of neighbouring vehicles have heard. In the distance he spots two familiar figures, hand in hand by the bus stop. Despite himself, he smiles. Shanice and Jamie have obviously agreed to unite to work through whatever their baby's life may hold. He can't imagine as positive an outcome for him. Yet today has taught him that it's wrong to keep secrets from those he holds the closest. He knows now, for his relationship to continue, he'd have to tell her. He quickly turns the key in the ignition, needing to do something before the thought overwhelms him.

The route home comes automatically, a small blessing as it's enough of a struggle to concentrate on the road without needing to worry about directions as well. He can't stop picturing the look on Alicia's face if he told her his diagnosis. He knows the sequence, seen it on all three people he's told. First shock, then horror, then the worst of all, pity.

He knows Alicia well enough not to assume she'd end it immediately. She'd leave it some time, weeks, maybe months, then think of some reason why it wasn't working out, his lack of enthusiasm for late night drinking, or that nervous stutter that creeps in occasionally, or the way he likes to talk about medicine even when they're not at work. Or perhaps, and for some reason this makes him most nauseous of all, she'd stay with him because she felt sorry for him. He doesn't think he can bare that. He's already going to burden Cal with his deteriorating health, he can't do that to a woman who's too nice to tell him where to go.

So by the time he slams the front door and picks up Cal's coat from the floor, he's made up his mind. He walks into the lounge with stiff legs and a weary mind.

Cal's on the sofa, open bottle of beer in his hand. "Alright, bro?" he asks.

"No, no, not really," Ethan slides onto the sofa next to his brother. "You have to help me."

To his credit, Cal sits upright and places the beer on the floor. His forehead creases in surprise. "Sure. What's up?"

"I need to break up with Alicia," Ethan replies.


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you guys so much for the reviews. I was over the moon to get such a response and I'm sorry I can't thank you with a better chapter this time. It's just a bit of a filler before all the drama kicks off shortly :) Please let me know what you think.

 **panicpeachpit:** Thank you for your review - I'm so glad you get what I was aiming for with the Cal/Lily thing and thanks for your kind words about the way I wrote it. & yeah, always room for some more drama though haha, it's the best kind of thing to write! Hope you enjoy the update.

 **Guest:** Thank you so much for your review, I'm always so reassured to know that people are still reading, so I really appreciate that you took the time to let me know. I'm glad you feel like I get into their minds, I always try to, and do in my head, but when putting it into words can be hard to know if it came across the way I intended. Thanks again.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Thank you for your kind words, I'm relieved you think moving the Lily stuff worked - I hadn't planned it but if I hadn't it would have been boring for ages and then everything in a big jumble at once. I'm also glad you think I managed to keep them in character. Hope you like this next chapter too.

 **casfics:** I love it when they support each other too so have to include a bit of that. Thank you so much for your review. No spoilers but hopefully this chapter won't be as gutting for you. Thanks again.

* * *

 **23.**

* * *

Cal stares at him, eyebrow slanted, mouth slightly parted, beer discarded on the floor. He shuffles slightly on the sofa and blinks, replaying the words. "Sorry, _what_ did you say?" he finally manages.

"I need you to help me break up with Alicia," Ethan repeats, his words even more painful second time around.

"Yeah- what?"

"Well, you've broken up with more girls than I have…"

"No," Cal says. "No, I mean, why the hell would you-?" He breaks off, outrage burning in his eyes. "Oh. She's cheated, hasn't she?"

"Of course not," Ethan snaps. "She wouldn't. Not everyone has your moral compass, you know."

"Hey, no need to bite my head off."

"Then don't make false accusations about my girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend."

"Caleb!"

"I don't get it," Cal says. "You've liked her for ages. You finally get together. I've never seen you so… so _lovestruck_. What's going on?"

"Look, are you going to help me find a way to do it, or not?"

"Ethan. Come on, we're brothers, we have no secrets."

A short sigh escapes Ethan's lips. He doesn't want to talk to Cal about it because he doesn't want to talk about it at all. He knows it's a misguided hope that not mentioning the _thing_ can somehow banish it into nothingness, but the reverse, talking about it, makes his inevitable deterioration feel so much more real. And yet, Cal's proclamation about secrets, be it in jest, collides with everything that has happened that day.

"Alright," Ethan says. He takes a deep breath and focuses on the wall opposite, the splodge of pink paint that never completely got erased. "I haven't told her about the- the Huntington's, okay?"

"Well, I'd figured as much."

"Because if I'd told her there's no way she'd still be with me, right?"

"No," Cal says. "Because I _know_ you. If you were going to tell her you'd spend weeks rehearsing what to say, writing lists of pros and cons and having at least one nervous breakdown in the process."

"It's not funny, Caleb."

"I'm not laughing."

Ethan slumps forwards, his eyes falling on the part drank beer bottle on the floor. His brother, for once, seems to read his mind and passes him the bottle.

"So that's why you're breaking up with her? You can't bear to tell her." Cal runs a hand over the back of his head. "And you say I run when things get hard!"

Ethan ignores him, wordlessly bringing the beer to his lips.

"There's a simple solution," Cal says. "Don't tell her."

"That's not _right_ , though, is it?" Ethan says. "Honesty is an integral part of any relationship. She deserves to know."

"Are you being safe?"

Ethan frowns. "What?"

"Well, are you? Because if you need condoms, there's a large supply in my room which aren't getting any use at the moment."

"Caleb!" Ethan splutters. "I'm a grown man, I can buy my own."

"Just asking." Cal holds a hand out for the beer. "That was mine first, you know. Don't drink it all."

Ethan relinquishes the bottle. "What business is it of yours, anyway?"

"That's how a conversation works, Ethan. You ask my advice and I give it."

"Oh, that was advice, was it?"

"Look, the only time Alicia would _need_ to know, is if there was a chance she was getting pregnant, right?"

"Or perhaps she would want to make an educated decision about whether she should get into a relationship with a dead man walking?"

Cal shudders. "Don't say that."

"It's hardly inaccurate."

"By the time it starts, you might not be with her anyway."

"Great. Thanks," Ethan snaps. He could tell from the gentle tones his brother used that he wasn't saying it to be cruel but it still hurts to hear.

"So, just keep doing what you're doing. She's probably on the pill, I suppose, but can't hurt to use both, some girls forget to-"

"Cal." Ethan's voice comes out much louder than he expected. He slowly turns to face his brother. "There's no point. I can't be with her if I'm hiding something this big."

"But breaking up with her is going to make you both unhappy."

"In the short-term, yes. She'll soon… move on. She'll be okay."

"And you?"

"And I…" Ethan shrugs. "This isn't about me."

"This is _completely_ -"

"No, it's about Alicia," he interrupts, "and what's best for her."

"How about having a boyfriend who loves her?" Cal says. He pauses and leads forwards. "You do, don't you?"

Ethan shakes his head, not an answer, but a refusal of the question.

"Sometimes you forget how well I know you, Nibbles."

"If you know me that well, you'd recall that the breaking up part wasn't for debate. All I wanted was some guidance on how to do it."

"It's not you, it's me," Cal deadpans.

"Oh, I don't know why I thought you'd be of any help whatsoever."

Ethan goes to stand but his brother's arm moves quickly to his, squeezing his shoulder and holding him in place.

"I am helping," Cal tells him. "I'm stopping you making a big mistake."

Ethan slumps back onto the seat of the sofa.

"Listen, you can't break up with her."

"Then what am I going to do?" he asks, quietly.

"If it was me, I wouldn't do anything," Cal says. "But this is you." He pauses and takes another slurp of the beer. "I think you should tell her."

Ethan freezes. Panic surges into his throat. "I can't."

"Okay, so not now. But sometime. When you're ready."

A question rushes to Ethan's lips and then dies without being spoken. What if he's never ready? What if the progression starts and he's still not ready? He stares at Cal and wonders how his brother makes it sound so simple.

"Let yourself be happy, Ethan. You deserve it."

Ethan gives a tight lipped smile. He appreciates the sentiment, especially given the rarity of such affection. His stomach still flutters, though, unconvinced. The only thing that's certain is he needs more time to decide whether to tell her the truth or end things all together and unfortunately that involves the exact thing he'd been trying to avoid; secrets.

He jumps as Cal's hand brushes the back of his neck and looks up into his brother's eyes.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," he lies. "Thanks Cal."

"Good." Cal's smile is as superficial as his own. "You'll be alright for a minute, yeah? Think I pushed it with physio a bit too much this morning, could do with a painkiller."

Ethan feels his brow crease in concern. "Shall I fetch some for you?"

"No, it's fine. Stay there and drink this," Cal says, thrusting the remainder of the beer towards him.

Ethan watches as his brother limps towards his bedroom. His chest swells. Although he wishes Cal hadn't had to go through the trauma, there's no doubt that the accident brought them closer. Years ago, they would have never managed a conversation like they'd just had. It hadn't provided the outcome he'd been expecting, a perfect one-liner to break a relationship in the least painful way possible, but it's shown him his brother cares.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it from his pocket to see a message from Alicia: _Dinner Wednesday?_ He opens the app but stares dimly at the screen, motionlessly comprising a response: _You're better off without me._ He shakes his head and replies differently, a one-word message that is nothing like his usual essays: _perfect_. Her only reply is a series of smiling faces and guilt forms in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down.

Cal swings back into the room on crutches. There's none of the hesitancy about using them that there was the day Ethan forced him from his hospital bed to practice, but it's still unusual for Cal to remove the prosthesis this early in the evening.

"Sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Uh, yeah." Cal lowers himself back to the sofa. "You know me, bossing the physio session, beating all of Mo's expectations. I'm tired, that's all, bit sore."

"Okay, but Cal, you _would_ tell me if there was anything else, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, of course. You worry too much, baby bro."

"Someone's got to look after you."

"In that case," Cal nods towards the empty beer bottle, "there's some more in the fridge door."

"Fine." Ethan struggles to his feet, suddenly tired. "Oh, by the way, your safe sex talk was appalling."

Cal huffs with laughter. "Worse than mum's?"

"Goodness, do you remember that?" Ethan grabs a beer for Cal, shuts the fridge, then has a change of heart and gets a second out for himself. "Even you were bright red."

"I was trying to hide the fact it was too late to be having that chat with me." He grins. "Far too early for you though, right?"

"Yeah, well, I'm two and a half years younger than you!"

Ethan passes his brother one of the bottles. Cal has spread himself out on the sofa leaving just a small gap for him at one end. It would usually irritate him but today he squeezes in against the arm and tries to sneak a peek at Cal's leg to check everything is okay.

Cal catches where he's look and tugs the leg of his joggers down over the stump. "Stop it. I'm fine."

"Okay, sorry. It's just- I know it must hurt sometimes, but you never usually _admit_ to it."

"Well, we were having a heart to heart, weren't we? Thought it was the time and place for sharing."

"You can always tell me," Ethan says.

"Nothing to tell." Cal prods him with the foot on his other leg. "You're getting annoying. Put a film on? Nothing boring. And you know I don't do subtitles."

* * *

Considering he'd forgotten he had a shift today, Cal's proud that he's made it to work only ten minutes late. His brother may have a diary he meticulously carries around with him, but Cal only has his memory and that's been failing him recently, overwhelmed with the cycle of appointments. If it isn't physio, it's counselling and if it isn't either of those or work, it's remembering that he has a planned telephone call to discuss the progress of his compensation claim.

After his accident Ethan had promised him things would get easier. On the whole, that's been true, but no-one had thought to forewarn him of how busy life would get during the process of _getting things back to normal_. That, and how the schedule of appointments drains him far more than two nights out in a row ever did. It's almost enough to make him regret telling Ethan to stop micro-managing his life.

Cal makes it to the staffroom without being spotted by any senior colleagues. He falters only slightly when he sees that Lily is already in there. She's filling a glass with tap water, her back to him, and he clears his throat as quietly as he can so not to make her jump. She turns to face him. A cut still mars her forehead. He can see discomfort written across her face and suspects his own is a mirror. They've made their peace but things are still awkward, both learning how to interact with each other again.

"Hey," he says.

She gifts him with a small smile. "Hello."

"Didn't expect you back so soon."

"I was bored at home."

He nods. He can recall the feeling easily and suspects it was even more frustrating for Lily, unable to imagine her slumped in front of the television, doing nothing productive.

"End of shift or start?"

"End," she says, sounding surprised he's had to ask.

Her eyes flicker to the clock and he sees the inadvertent frown as she confirms his lateness. She doesn't say anything, for once, and he knows she doesn't want to risk their tentative friendship. He shrugs out of his coat and replaces it with his scrub top. It's creased but between all his appointments and secretly re-reading old notes to ensure he gets back to brilliant in Resus, he's not had time to iron. He grabs his stethoscope from his locker and heads towards the door.

"Suppose I'd better get to work. See you soon."

"Actually, Cal, can you wait?" she says. "I've just called a meeting and I'd like to you to hear this too."

"Facilitating my lateness? That's new."

"A few more minutes won't hurt."

He opens his mouth to tell her he likes that attitude, but Max strolls in, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but there.

"Is this going to take long?" he asks.

"I don't anticipate-"

"Because my shift finished fifteen minutes ago and overtime's not my thing." Max says, jumping up onto one of the bar stools. "Oh, hey, Cal. Late night, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've not seen bags like that on anyone since my nan." He winks. "Come on, who's the lucky lady?"

Cal fidgets uncomfortably but manages to fake a laugh. "Uh, that'd be telling." His comment seems to satisfy Max, but when he looks at Lily out of the corner of his eye, he can tell she's not fooled. He suspects his bravado won't wash with her for some time after how open he was when he visited her in hospital.

Staff gradually filter in, expressions ranging from curious to irritated. Cal leans against the table, bemused.

"Okay, thank you everyone for coming," Lily starts. "I was hoping more people could attend but we are running eight minutes late so let's get started."

"Is this about Resus 3?" Noel asks, sounding impatient.

"No, no, this is not about Resus 3." Lily's pitch is an octave higher than usual.

"Well, then." Jacob stands in the middle of the room, arms folded. "It must be something about your return to work. Because we _are_ glad to see you, Lily, but-"

"It's not that." Lily glances to a particular person across the room and suddenly Cal knows where this is going. "I called the meeting today to- to inform you all that I'm… in a committed relationship."

A few beats of silence follow.

"Well, um… congratulations," David ventures.

"Hold on," Noel says. "Was that it?"

"With Iain," she finishes, pointing at him as if to eliminate any doubt over which Iain she was talking about. "And, as professionals, I wanted to reassure everyone that this is not going to affect our working relationship." She gives a formal nod. "That is all."

"Well," Max says, sliding off his stool. "Speaking as a porter, that's a huge weight off my mind." He nudges Jacob on his way out. "Remind me to call a meeting next time I snog a woman!"

"Mate, I don't have that long term a memory!"

Cal follows everyone out the room, giving Iain a friendly clap on the back as he leaves him alone with Lily. He's still smiling by the time he reaches Resus but it falls as soon as he realises he's being supervised by Dylan for the shift.

"Nice of you to join us."

"I was held up in a meeting," Cal replies.

Dylan ignores the excuse. "We have incoming from an armed burglary."

"A gunshot wound?"

"No, suspected heart attack."

"Oh. That all?"

"I'm sure the patient is wracked with guilt they haven't got a more exciting ailment for you," Dylan drawls. "But perhaps don't mention it until after we've saved their life."

Cal pulls a face at Dylan's back. He hadn't meant it like that, but most doctors would feel the effects of adrenaline at the thought of treating the victim of a shooting.

Jez bursts through the doors of Resus with the trolley. "Right, guys, this is Alan, 46," he says. "He works in a bank in town and has had a dalliance with an armed robber, isn't that right, Al? No injuries sustained but, in the aftermath, he experienced a sharp pain in his chest, breathlessness and according to his colleagues, fell to the floor."

"Okay, bed three please."

"GCS has remained at 15 throughout. BP 90 over 60. Sats at 95% and he's tachycardic. He's still complaining of chest pain and also says he's light-headed."

"Thanks, Jez," Cal says. "On my count. One, two, three."

Even with all of them working together, it's a struggle to lift Alan's weight. He lands on the bed heavily and lets out a groan that's only slightly smothered by the oxygen mask. Alan's smart shirt is open by all but the bottom button and sweat marks stale the pale blue material. He's pale, clammy and yet his eyes are alert, flickering between the doctors and paramedics in fear.

"Take special care of Al, yeah," Jez says. "He was a hero, by all accounts. Talked the robber down from shooting anybody."

"Oh!" Cal says, impressed. "More than your average day's work, I'm betting."

Alan tugs at the oxygen mask. "I'm a manager," he says, breathlessly. "I wasn't letting any of my team get hurt."

"Keep that on," he says, replacing the mask. "You're a good man then. Don't worry, we're going to take care of you."

"Doctor Knight, you can lead with this one," Dylan says.

Cal nods. He's been back in Resus for a few shifts now but mostly assisting, so he's grateful to get the chance to take charge. "Okay, can we get a twelve lead ECG and bloods sending off urgently." He turns back to his patient. "Alan, where's the pain?"

"Here." Alan's hand clutches at his chest.

"Anywhere else at all?"

"My arm."

"Okay, 300ml of aspirin, please," Cal requests.

"I know what you're thinking. Heart attack."

Cal gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. "It's certainly a possibility. We'll know more after the tests, so please try not to worry."

"Was only a matter of time. Doc's always telling me to lose weight. My wife too."

Cal starts placing the ECG leads onto his patient's chest and arms. "We can call your wife for you, if you like?"

"Please," Alan says. "Tell her not to bring the girls though. I don't want them to see me like this."

"You've got children?"

"Two daughters. Maisie and Eve."

"How old?"

"Fifteen and twelve."

"Ah, the terrible teens," Cal says. He's barely listening, too busy setting up the ECG. "We'll leave these wires on you for a bit, okay, get some accurate readings."

"Thanks, Doctor."

Cal moves onto his next patient, a handover from Elle, in the form of a twenty year old student who'd had a fall while inebriated the previous evening and is experiencing a loss of vision in one eye. The results of the head CT confirmed she has intracranial bleed.

He shows Dylan the scan. "Am I alright to lead again?"

Dylan waves a lofty hand towards the patient. "Yeah, yeah go ahead."

"Hi, Bella," he says. "My name is Doctor Knight. I've just had a look at your scans and I'm afraid they are showing a slight bleed inside your head."

"Is that bad?" she says, panicky. "My sight, is it coming back?"

"At this stage there's no reason to suggest it won't," he says.

"I'm an art student, I need to see."

"Well, I'm going to continue to monitor you for now." He looks to Dylan. "Uh, shall we do a mannitol infusion?"

"Let's keep her on paracetamol," Dylan replies, "unless there are symptoms other than the vision loss, of course."

"Right, yeah." Cal turns back to Bella.

"I have a headache," she supplies, shrugging.

"Any nausea or dizziness? Pins and needles?"

"No, none of that. Look, this wait and see business. There must be something you can _do_."

"The alternative is surgery," he says, softly. "We'd like to avoid that if at all possible. So, for now, we treat with drugs and hopefully the bleed will stop on it's own."

She purses her lips and nods, a tear trickling down her cheek. "Sorry," she says, wiping it away. "I never cry. I just-"

"I know," Cal says. "I know it's scary but you are going to be fine, okay?"

"Okay," she says in a broken voice.

* * *

It's Alicia's choice of restaurant. Ethan had happily let her choose; not only did it alleviate the pressure on himself, but she's been dying to try it out ever since Natalie in Paediatrics told her how good it was, and he wants to be the first to share that experience with her.

He'd arrived at the restaurant early because Alicia had once joked that she feared being the first to arrive anywhere, and he wanted to eliminate any possibilities of her feeling uncomfortable. To start with, he'd spent his time studying the menu, taking in the décor, wondering if all those low hung candles were a safety hazard, and trying to diagnose the man three tables away that couldn't stop coughing. But now, after fifteen minutes sat by himself, Ethan is starting to get strange looks from their designated waiter, a young man barely old enough to serve them alcohol.

He can't blame the waiter. He must have witnessed similar men, smartly dressed, shuffling nervously and checking their phones every thirty seconds, whose dates never arrived. But Ethan knows that won't be the case. Alicia would never let him down that way. He undoes the top button of his shirt, partly for something to do but largely because it's choking him and he's not sure why he fastened it so high in the first place. He checks both sleeves to ensure his cuff links are still in place.

And then he sees Alicia. She's by the door, handing her coat over to the doorman and looking around nervously as if she has reservations about whether he's here already. Their eyes lock and she breaks into a smile, striding towards him with confidence, despite the height of her heels. He stands to greet her and she pulls him to her, her lips grazing his cheek.

"Sorry I'm late," she says. "Crisis with a lipstick."

As they take their seats, Ethan nearly overbalances off the chair, too enraptured by Alicia to look where he was sitting. Thankfully, she doesn't notice, or at least pretends not to.

"Lipstick crisis," he repeats. "Didn't know there was such a thing."

"Oh, you'd be surprised." She helps herself to the drinks menu. "Lipstick crisis, foundation crisis. You don't want to see some of the things I've done with an eyeliner."

"It can't be that bad, surely!"

"You'd be surprised."

"Well, you always look beautiful to me."

She looks up, smiling. "You're so sweet, Ethan. Sorry, I'm sure you don't want to spend your evening talking about make up."

"On the contrary, that's exactly what I had in mind."

They share a smile. The dimple in Alicia's cheek still makes his heart flutter every time he sees it. It's one of the many incentives for making her smile.

"You weren't waiting long for me, were you?"

"Oh, no, no," he lies.

"Ethan."

"A bit of a wait," he admits. "But worth it. How are you?"

"Yeah, good." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You?"

"It's been a productive day. Cal's been out so I finally got chance to deep clean the flat." He pauses. "Sorry," he says, "that's an even worse topic than make up."

She giggles. "No, your flat's nice, you've got to keep it that way. So what made you decide to live with your brother?"

"I didn't," Ethan says. "I bought a flat and he moved himself in."

"No way!"

"It was done with the best of intentions. Sort of. I, um, was involved in a car accident with some of the others, Lily, Mrs Beauchamp… I don't know if you ever heard?"

"No," she says, concern flickering in her eyes. She slides her elbows across the table. "Was it serious?"

"Fairly." He pauses. It feels callous to talk about Jeff's death during a flippant conversation about his brother's methods of getting what he wanted. "Cal came to stay for a few days while I was recovering… and never moved back out."

"So you've both looked after each other in times of need."

"Yeah, I suppose. There have been ups and downs but I can't imagine him not being there now."

"That's lovely, honestly, Ethan. He's lucky to have you."

He blushes and looks away. It's somehow easier to keep up the pretence that he and Cal hate each other than letting people see how much they care.

"Can I get you any drinks?"

Ethan jumps as the waiter creeps up behind.

"Yeah, I'd love a sauvignon blanc," Alicia says.

"Is that a glass or bottle?"

Ethan sees Alicia's hopeful glance. "We'll have a bottle, please," he tells the waiter. "And, um, just a little longer to decide on the food."

"You know," she says, once the waiter has gone. "I think I'm pretty lucky to have you too."

He manages a smile, despite the fact his heart is hammering in his chest. "Because I decided to get a bottle?"

She delivers a light kick under the table. "No! Well, not just that." She grins. "I'm just happy I've met a good guy for once."

"Good guy?"

"Yeah. Nice, kind, gentle. Though," she giggles and her hair falls forwards into her face, "not so gentle when the lights go down, eh."

" _Alicia_ ," he hisses, laughing in shock.

"Endearingly easy to embarrass," she continues. "Funny, honest."

Although she's smiling at him and beneath the table their calves are touching, the last word causes Ethan to freeze. Honest. He wonders whether this is the time that Cal spoke about, when he was ready to tell her the truth.

"Alicia," he repeats. "There's something I have to-"

"Here we go then." The waiter pours a little of the wine into both their glasses and waits patiently for them to try it.

"Very nice," Alicia says.

Ethan makes a murmur of approval. It's all he can manage and he probably would have made the same noise regardless of how the wine tasted.

"Ready to order?"

"Oh, we've been too busy nattering," she says. "Hang on, I'm sure we can make a quick choice. Not as if we're not used to making split second decisions!"

Ethan scans the menu. He may be able to make a quick decision when it counts to save a patient's life, but negotiating between something that tasted good but wasn't messy or smelly or ridiculously overpriced, takes much more planning. He lets Alicia go first and then panics, orders a lasagne, and immediately wonders if she'll consider his choice to be dull.

She doesn't mention anything about his lasagne, but she does lean across the table, lock her fingers with his, and smile.

"You were about to say something?" she asks.

"Oh. Um," Ethan says. "Yes."

He knows the moment has passed and realises that the conversation, if he ever manages to have it, is not one to have in a busy restaurant. It would need to be in private, somewhere they can talk and weep and talk some more if either of them could find the words.

"Go on," she says, her tone teasing.

"I just-" He pauses and looks down at their clasped hands. "I'm the lucky one," he announces, "to have you in my life."

He means it. Despite all the bad things that have happened over the last few years, she's a rare positive. He knows with absolute certainty that he doesn't want to lose her. As Cal says, he deserves _some_ happiness. But he knows, like with everything else in his life, it can only ever be short-lived.


	24. Chapter 24

Hope you enjoy the update, it was fun to write. Reviews are appreciated more than I can say.

 **panicpeachpit:** I'm so pleased you're excited. I am too, though also hoping I manage to do all the plotlines running round in my head justice when I put them into words. Thank you so much for your review - I'm glad it was in character (and if I know their characters well it's because I have spent wayyy too much time watching/reading them haha). Hope you enjoy this chapter too and that no brownies get ruined this time either haha. Thanks again for all your kind words.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Haha I know but I hated that storyline too (I mean, it happened so soon after the diagnosis so Cal should have been too busy looking after Ethan to even think about women, particularly one Ethan liked, but then Ethan just wouldn't have slept with his brother's girlfriend. And also, that crappiness of a storyline as pretty much their final one together *sob*). Sorry for getting sidetracked haha, what I _meant_ to say was thank you so much for your review and especially saying you like the way I write their interactions. It really does mean a lot. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

* * *

 **24.**

* * *

Cal's quiet and Ethan knows that usually means there's something wrong. He was quiet at the pub last night too, waving away Max's offer of a shot and just smiling politely at the pretty brunette who sidled up to him at the bar. Ethan watches as his brother shuts his locker and leans on it for a few seconds, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Cal," Ethan says.

"Yes, I'm fine," his brother hisses.

"How did you know-?"

"You've asked me twenty times this morning."

Cal pushes himself away from the locker and Ethan sure he can detect a slight limp as his brother walks towards him.

"Not quite twenty."

"At least." Cal raises his eyebrows. "Look, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours…" he roughs Ethan's hair, "but there's nothing wrong with me. Okay?"

This time it's Ethan who sighs. "Okay," he replies, despite feeling anything but. He may not know _what_ is wrong with Cal, but he can read his brother's moods better than his own. "But you did have breakfast, didn't you..?"

Cal glares at him. "Right. That's it. I'm getting to work."

"Because there wasn't a trail of cornflakes scattered over the kitchen worktop like normal."

"Ethan!"

"Caleb, can you answer me, please."

"I had toast," Cal says. "Happy?" He storms towards the door. "Bloody hell, you're irritating sometimes."

Ethan waits until the door is shut with a firm click and then sighs, his shoulders slumping. Regardless of how well he knows his brother, he has proof Cal is lying. They've been out of bread for days. Ethan had resorted to sandwiching a slice of ham between two crackers for his lunch yesterday. Cal, no doubt, had visited the burger van again and had no reason to notice their empty cupboards.

Logic tells him, Cal could just be having a bad couple of days. He knows no recovery path is linear but for every low so far, the tears in hospital, the breakdown soon after arriving home, the ongoing struggles with physio, his brother has allowed him to help. So it concerns him most of all, that Cal is hiding something from him. Experience has shown that the more evasive Cal is about something, the worse the consequences when it's finally revealed.

He balances his stethoscope around his neck and heads onto the ward. He's based in Resus today, whereas Cal is in cubicles. He keeps his eyes out for Cal as he walked past, relieved to see his brother in conversation with Charlie. He knows the nurse has beady observational skills and will notice that Cal is not himself. If the cause remains a mystery by the end of his shift, he'll interrogate Charlie for what he knows.

Resus is busy. Throughout his years at Holby City Hospital it's been a rarity to see it otherwise. He scans the room. Bay one is home to an elderly man, conscious but only just, so weak he's not even attempting to lift his cheek from the mattress. Bay two hosts a pregnant lady, her hand clutched tightly in her partners, both of them squinting at the ultrasound screen in hope. The young man in bay three has a bloody nose and cheek and tell-tale bruises across his ribs, but seems more worried about the occupant in bay four than himself. Ethan edges towards the final bay. Between Lily and Robyn he can see the patient, unconscious, an oxygen mask stretched over his mouth.

"What do we have?" he asks.

Lily greets him without taking her eyes of her patient. "Doctor Hardy, this is Nathan York, twenty-six years of age. He and his partner were attacked earlier today." She indicates the man in bay three with a slight nod of her head. "Nathan was reportedly knocked to the floor and we believe sustained a head injury in the process. He lost consciousness a few moments ago."

"Okay." Ethan takes the other side of the bed and shines his torch into their patient's eyes. "Both equal and reactive."

"Good." Lily's eyes flicker towards the monitor. "Heart rate slightly elevated. Nurse Miller, please book an urgent CT."

"What are you thinking?" Ethan asks. "Subdural Haematoma?"

"What does that mean?" a panicked voice calls.

Ethan's head follows the sound and, over his shoulder, he sees Nathan's partner swing his legs over the side of the bed, looking as if he's about to stand.

"No, no, don't get up," he says.

"Will he be okay?"

"We need to run a few tests." Ethan leaves Nathan in Lily's capable hands to go to his partner's side. "We'll look after him."

"He doesn't deserve this." The young man runs a hand over his head, inadvertently smearing blood across his forehead. "We did nothing wrong."

Ethan checks the whiteboard above the bed. "Kai, is it? What happened?"

"We were going to the cinema. Stopped in at the corner shop to pick up some snacks. He eats more crisps than I ever thought humanly possible!" He pauses, wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "Some guys were kicking off at the shopkeeper. He's, I dunno, Indian, I think. They were calling him all sorts. Racist. Poor man looked like he wanted to cry." Kai frowns as he remembers what happened. "So we told them to stop. Could hardly ignore it, could we?"

Ethan gives a sympathetic nod. "And they started on you?"

"Not straight away. They ignored us at first, too busy laying into him." Kai coughs slightly and winces, his hand clutching at his ribs.

"Lay back for me, please," Ethan says. He helps Kai lift his legs back onto the bed and silently listens to his chest. He's wheezy but his heartrate is healthy. "You need to remain still for a while, okay? If your ribs are broken any movement could cause complications. Has the pain got worse?"

"A bit."

"I'll increase your pain relief."

"Thanks." Kai groans. His head falls sidewise so he can watch as his partner is treated. "Nathan called the police. That's when they started on us. Followed us outside. I don't think we were even holding hands or anything, but they figured we were gay. So they held that against us as well as sticking up for the shopkeeper. Called us grasses, puffs, worse…" He sniffs back a sob. "There were lots of them. Split us up, beat us both."

"I'm sorry that happened," Ethan says. "You did the right thing." He follows Kai's gaze. He can tell that Nathan remains stable but critical, treatment on hold until he's had his scan. "We'll do our best for him."

"I wish I'd done more to help. I kept trying to get free, to get to Nathan, but there were too many of them, they were too strong. I barely saw what happened but I saw him hit the floor. Knocked him out cold. Only for a few second though, he came round long before the ambulance arrived. He was talking to me, called those guys- well, I shouldn't repeat it! I thought that was a good sign."

"Head injuries aren't straight forward," Ethan explains. "Symptoms can sometimes take a while to present."

Kai nods. "He only moved down here a few weeks ago. Came all the way from Manchester to be with me here. And now this happened."

"A rocky start doesn't foretell the future."

"You think?"

"I'm sure," Ethan says.

Before Kai can respond, both their attentions are drawn to the nearby bed. Nathan is fitting, his limbs jerking uncontrollably, thrashing against the mattress with small thumps. His mouth is open and he sounds like he's gagging.

"Ethan!" Lily calls.

He hadn't needed to be told to join her and so is already by the trolley by the time Lily looks up.

"This has to be a Subdural Haematoma," she says.

"Any word from CT?"

"Nothing." She tuts. "Okay, 5mg of diazepam. Can you hold him still while I administer?"

"Sure." Ethan adjusts his position so that he can reach Nathan's arm. It's difficult to keep hold of him while the convulsions continue but he exhibits enough strength to still the arm so that Lily can inject him with the drug.

"Pulse rate is elevated."

"That could be the seizure. We'll monitor."

Beneath his hands, Ethan can feel Nathan growing weaker. "Symptoms appear to be subsiding."

"Okay. Let's get him onto his side."

As Nathan slowly comes out of the seizure, Ethan chances a look at his Kai. He looks young and scared. A single tear is trickling down his cheek.

"Page Neuro," Lily demands off Robyn. "Don't take no for an answer."

* * *

Cal's not sure when he got so old that it only took two pints to leave him hungover. His head is pounding, mouth dry and stomach churning. It only takes the slightest turn of his head for the whole room to spin. Of course, there is the possibility he _isn't_ hungover, but that means the cause of his discomfort is something he doesn't want to think about, something that worrying about is far too _Ethan_ _like_ for him to do. Something where the consequences are far bigger.

"Cal," a voice comes.

Cal scrunches his eyes shut, just for a millisecond so that no-one will notice, but hopefully enough for the room to stop swimming by the time he opens them.

"Cal, are you listening?"

Charlie's face looms in front of his, forehead creased with concern.

"Yeah," he lies.

"Well?"

Cal hesitates. "Well..?"

Charlies gives that exasperated sigh of his. "Cubicle five. Are they ready for discharge?"

"Uh, Mrs Norris? No, no, I'm trying to get her a bed up on geriatrics. She's not well enough to return to living by herself."

"I agree," Charlie says, "except Mrs Norris is cubicle three. Cubicle _five_ is Luke Simms."

"Right." Cal leans against the desk, weight on his forearms. The paperwork in front of him means nothing.

"Teenager with a broken arm," Charlie prompts. "Come on, Cal, get with it."

"Right." Cal repeats. "Broken arm. Yeah. Yeah, he's ready to go. You got the paperwork for me to sign?"

"You don't want one last check on him?"

"You said he was ready for discharge!"

"No, I asked if-" Charlie breaks off and folds his arms across his chest. "Okay. What's going on?"

Cal remains silent, trying to figure if he's screwed up yet and, if so, how badly.

"A word?" Charlie asks, except it's not a question. He nods towards his office. "No arguments."

Cal rolls his eyes then wishes he hadn't. He grips the desk with both hands and leaves it as long as he can before taking a deep breath and following the nurse. Thankfully he makes it. It's an excuse to sit down, at least.

"What do you want, Charlie?"

"I want to know why having a conversation with you has become more one-sided than with Duffy's six month old grandchild."

Cal pulls a face. "Well, thanks."

"No offence meant." He pauses. "Should I be worried?"

"About me? No."

"About our patients. I could have told you Doreen Reynolds was ready for discharge and you'd have believed me!"

Cal pauses. His brain hurts. "The- the lady with lung cancer," he guesses.

"Lung, liver, bone…"

Cal sags and a groan escapes. "You're right, Charlie." He rubs at his temple. "I'm not with it today. Tired, I guess. I'll grab an energy drink and I'll get with the programme, I promise."

"Just tired?"

"Hungover," Cal admits.

"Oh, Cal. Don't you think that kind of behaviour should be behind you now?"

"You sound like Ethan," he says, grumpily. The comment feels unjust, he's not turned up to work hungover in months, barely drank for several. "I only had two. I don't know what's happened to me."

Charlie rubs at the back of his head. "Fine. Take five minutes. Do whatever you need to. Then I want you back and I want you focused." He sighs disapprovingly. "You are lucky it's me you're talking to, not Mrs Beauchamp."

"I know. Thanks Charlie."

He leaves but rather than heading to the canteen as planned, he locks himself inside the disabled toilet, the only place he can think of where he can get some privacy. He leans over the sink, staring into the mirror. He remembers his student days, back when his body could handle a hangover with ease but how his face always gave it away. Today's no different. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin is glistening with a sheen of sweat even though he feels shivery. He runs some water and, holding his breath, splashes it over his face. It drips onto his scrub top, leaving a wet patch.

He stumbles to the toilet and sits on the closed lid, dabbing his face and tunic with ineffective toilet paper. The water hasn't rejuvenated him like it usually does and he wonders, again, what kind of hangover he's been cursed with this time. Something feels different to normal. Instinctively, his hand curls around his knee, just inches from the end of his leg. Nausea stirs in his throat. He tells himself he's just paranoid, a side effect of having a lasting injury. It must be that because it's his whole body that's aching, not just his leg and because, back when the pain was at its worse, it never gave him a temperature or dizziness. He nods to himself; it must be the hangover. It's just weird he has no blanks from the previous night, like that time he'd woken up covered in mysterious bruises then heard from a friend that he'd drunkenly fallen down a staircase.

Cal leans forwards, resting on his elbows, and groans. He's been trying to block the taunting thoughts suggesting that his leg could be the root cause and now that he's entertained them, if only for a moment, he feels ten times worse. He does as his counsellor advises and takes a deep breath, in through his nose, holds it for three seconds and then exhales. All he gets is a lung full of state, toilet air and confirmation his counsellor talks bullshit. He can't wait until the block of eight sessions Mrs Beauchamp insisted on comes to an end.

He stands up, takes hold of the pull rail and imagines he's in physio. He winces before he even takes the move, afraid of what it could reveal. But when he lifts his good leg and balances on the prosthesis, he barely even wobbles. He sighs in relief. If there was a serious problem, surely he wouldn't be able to do that.

He stands by the door for some time, his hand on the lock, debating what to do once he's twisted it open. Although a caffeine hit would be welcome, he knows he couldn't stomach a sugary energy drink. Even a coffee doesn't sound appealing and he's never felt like that before. He cracks open the door and peers down the corridor to check none of his colleagues are around to witness him sneaking out of a toilet that's notorious for being a sanctuary for nurses who need a place to cry.

The corridor is empty but for a porter that Cal's sure belongs up on Keller. He makes his way back to the department, silently running through the names of the patients he has for the shift. He knows his own list is much shorter than the one he'll find on the monitor. He suddenly hears footsteps behind him and turns to see his brother, puffing slightly as he reaches his side.

"Are you- okay?" Ethan asks. "You look awful."

Cal glares at him. "Why are you _everywhere_?"

"I haven't seen you since the start of my shift."

"It's been a couple of hours. Can't you cope?"

"Cal-"

"What's up, having trouble in Resus? Because if you've not figured the whole doctor thing out by now, perhaps you'd be best to consider that resignation, mate."

"Don't do this," Ethan says.

"What? Do what?" Cal retorts. He knows exactly what Ethan means but the easiest way to get rid of him always has been by winding him up. "Don't tell me I've touched a nerve!"

"Look, I know something's wrong."

"And Nibbles always knows best," Cal parodies.

"When it comes to you, _yes_!"

"Leave it, Ethan." Cal turns away, rolling his eyes, and takes a few further steps towards the ward.

"You're limping."

He stops. "I'm not."

"You are. You're limping."

"Wow. Hit a guy where it hurts."

Ethan strides down the corridor and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm worried about you."

"Because I'm limping? I'd like to see you try walking around on this thing!"

"Does it hurt?"

"Does _what_ hurt?" Cal bites back. "The only pain I'm experiencing right now is _you_!"

"I'm only trying to help."

Ethan looks so crestfallen that Cal momentarily feels guilty for snapping at him. He removes his brother's hand from his shoulder but gives it a fleeting squeeze. "But I don't need you to," he says. "I'm fine."

This time when he walks away, Ethan doesn't follow.

* * *

"How is he?" Kai asks, as soon as Ethan returns to Resus.

The unnamed subject means Ethan's mind automatically flickers to Cal. He's watched his brother carefully for months and he's seen him limp before; first, because he wasn't used to the prosthesis, and now, when he's tired and his muscles have stopped doing what he wants them to. But what he saw today is neither.

Kai acknowledges his pause with a widening of his eyes and his hand flies to his mouth, knocking the scab on his lip that only just stopped bleeding.

"No, no, it's okay," Ethan says, hastily. "Nathan made it to surgery without further complications." He passes Kai a tissue. "I'm sorry I can't give you any more definitive news than that, but as soon as I hear an update, you'll be the first to know."

Kai wipes his lip with the back of his hand and uses the tissue to dab at his eyes instead. "Drilling into his head." He shudders. "That doesn't sound good."

"I know it's scary," Ethan replies. "But the neurosurgeons will take very good care of him."

"I don't really… It all happened so fast. I don't understand what they're doing."

"Okay, well, because of the head injury, Nathan has some blood trapped between his skull and a layer of protective tissue around his brain. There's nowhere for that blood to go to and so it started to press against his brain; that's what caused his seizure. The burr holes allow the blood to drain."

"So he'll be okay? No lasting problems? No-" he swallows, "brain damage?"

Ethan pauses. "All surgeries carry risks. These, of course, are reduced when the patient is otherwise fit and healthy like Nathan and it's more than plausible he'll recover fully."

Kai gives a tight lipped nod. "But you can't say for sure."

"Not for definite. Like I say, I'll update you as soon as I can." He attempts a reassuring smile. "For now, let's focus on you."

"I'm fine."

Ethan hesitates, wondering how many times he's heard that today. Just like Cal, he can tell Kai is far from okay. He's not sure whether he has more, or less, authority on a patient compared to his brother.

"That may be the case," he says, gently, "but it doesn't change the fact you've had a nasty assault so please let us be the ones who determine that." He waits until Kai has given a reluctant nod. "Robyn, half hourly obs, please, and an X-ray for those ribs."

"What happens now then?" Kai asks him, as Robyn scribbles down the stats on his monitor. "I mean, about the police? They were around earlier but I haven't given a statement or anything."

"I can see if they're still here?"

"Yeah. Okay then." Kai looks down at his clenched hands in his lap, sounding anything but confident.

"Or you can wait?" Robyn suggests. "We can tell them you're not well enough yet."

"But… _Nathan_ ," Kai continues. "I- I know it sounds stupid, it's just… it feels like telling the police what happened will help him get through the surgery. Like, he's got something to get better for, knowing the guys that did this will get locked up."

"That's not stupid." Robyn says. "But if you do want to delay it, I'm sure Nathan will understand."

" _He_ might but I wouldn't." He takes a deep breath. "No, I'd rather do it while the memory is still fresh."

"Did you get a good look at them then?" Ethan asks.

Kai shakes his head. "They had balaclavas on. But I have better. I have a name."

"Really?" Robyn's voice goes up an octave. "What, they told you their names?"

"I think one of them messed up." Kai pauses. "It's hard to explain but I got the impression he was younger, that he'd not done anything like that before." His hand ghosts the bruise on his cheek. "He was one of the guys who hit me. Maybe that's why I got off lighter, I dunno." He shakes his head and the movement dislodges a stray tear from his eye. "But there was another two. Bigger. Tougher. The ones who got Nathan."

Ethan checks the monitor. Kai's emotions haven't caused any deterioration but he still steps closer to the bed and gives him a sympathetic look. "You don't have to tell us."

"No, it- it's okay." Kai shrugs. "I have to be able to say it if I want to help Nathan." He winces as he remembers. "He hit the floor with such a smack. And the guy, he released me, just for a second, as if he realised they'd gone too far. That's when he- he turned to them and said… to the biggest one-" Kai frowns, "he said, _Dad, stop._ "

Ethan exchanges a look with Robyn, his heart sinking at the lack of clarity.

"Dad?" she ventures.

"Yeah. But the guy, his dad or whoever, he ignored him. So then he tried the other person and he said to him, I'm certain of this, he said _we should go_." Kai looks between them, eyes wide, as if it's down to them whether to believe him. "He repeated it. And he used his name. _Scott, we should go._ "

"Scott?"

"That's the name of the person who hurt Nathan." Kai nods. "Scott."

* * *

Cal stands for a moment at the foot of his patient's bed, trying to decide whether he's told her everything he needs to. He feels like there's a blockage in his brain, something preventing getting the information he needs from his memory to his mouth. He parts his lips, hoping that will prompt the necessary words.

Instead it's the patient who speaks.

"Haven't you got somewhere else to be?" she asks.

Cal sighs. "Probably."

"Then vamoose!" she says. She folds her arms across her hospital gown and glares at him.

Cal can't blame her for being irritable. The eighty-three year old has been living alone since her husband died six years ago and he's just had to inform her that he's admitting her to the ward, where they'll likely recommend she doesn't return home. If it was just a fall, there may have been alternatives, stair lifts and bath seats, but she's stick thin, clearly malnourished and he suspects, from the way she claws at red skin, infected with Scabies.

"Do you understand everything I've told you, Mrs Norris?"

"I'm not an idiot," she snaps. "I understand perfectly. You and your know-it-all colleagues are packing me off to some miserable care home."

"We just want what's best for you."

She snorts.

At this point, Cal would usually try to reassure his patient by telling them about the positives of residential homes, ones where she could live nearly as independently and ones which offer a range of activities she might enjoy. But he knows his words won't sink in. Perhaps if he felt better he would try anyway, but today, when everything feels so hard, he decides he won't waste his efforts.

She scratches her scalp and a clump of grey hair falls out in her fingers. "Look what this stress is doing to me," she says.

"You're not well, Mrs Norris."

"I'd be more inclined to listen if the person telling me didn't look worse than I do!"

Cal purses his lips. It's not an argument worth getting into but he can't help but wonder how ill he looks now. "A porter will be along shortly to take you up to the ward," he says.

He leaves the cubicle, momentarily proud of himself for remembering Mrs Norris earlier request for the curtain to remain shut. But when he lifts his arm it aches and it's a struggle to even tug the curtain along the rail. He groans.

"I heard that!" the patient calls from within the cubicle.

Cal bows his head. The groan wasn't at Mrs Norris but at himself, his inability to do even the simplest of tasks. Somewhere in his fog-ridden mind, he hopes she doesn't make a complaint against him. He doesn't need something else complicating his life.

He's not sure which patient he's supposed to see next but spots Charlie by the desks and so heads that way, hoping the nurse will give him some pointers. He stumbles slightly and feels a hot flush creep onto his cheeks. It's not that his leg's never given way on him before, but he usually manages not to do it in public. He rights himself by grabbing onto the work surface, tightening his grasp so no-one can see the tremble in his hands.

Charlie looks up at him, eyebrows raised, and Cal opens his mouth to answer the question before it's asked. No words come out. Even his jaw seems to ache.

"Cal?" Charlie says. "You okay?"

He breathes out slowly. Even though he could decipher Charlie's words, they sounded like they had come from somewhere in the distance, the other end of a long tunnel. The nurse takes a step closer and Cal flinches. There's a black circle closing in on Charlie's head. His face is blurry.

Cal blinks twice and then once more. It makes no difference. Dark spots still dance around the room. He turns his head slightly and the movement makes him sway to one side. Charlie's hands clamp down on his shoulders.

"Come on, son, let's find you a chair."

Cal splutters. He's not sure what's happening to him. His mouth tastes funny. His head feels like it's tripled in weight. He tries to take a deep breath, to follow Charlie's instructions and sit down somewhere, but nothing seems to work. The darkness is closing in on him. The room disappears. His knees buckle and he hits the floor with a crash.


	25. Chapter 25

You guys are the best, thank you so much for all the reviews on that last chapter and really making me smile. Sorry I've kept you waiting, especially after a cliffhanger. I don't know why, but no words were coming for a long time. I hope you enjoy the update now that it's finally here!

 **panicpeachpit:** Thank you so much, I loved reading your review. The name thing was actually accidental (also Kai/Cal similarities?) but I did realise before I post it and decided not to change it, so I'm glad it worked as foreshadowing (not that I'm giving anything away with _what_ it's foreshadowing, of course ;) haha). Thank you for all your kind comments.

 **Guest:** Thank you for reviewing - lots of drama still to come :)

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thank you so much for leaving a review, I really appreciate it as it's so reassuring to know you are still enjoying it. You're spot on about Ethan.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Haha sorry about the cliffhanger, got to throw an occasional one in there though :P Thank you so much for your comments, especially about the culmination at the end of the chapter. Loved reading your reaction to it.

 **Louise:** Wow, thank you so much for your comments about this story, it honestly means a lot. I don't want to give too much away but I can say that Scott will definitely feature at some point. Hope you continue to enjoy it.

* * *

25.

* * *

Cal wakes to the room spinning above him and the sound of his own pulse in his ears. His back stings from where he smacked the floor. He squints, the bright ceiling lights burning his eyes, and tries to push himself into a sitting position. Hands dig beneath his arms, hauling him upwards and into a wheelchair. He feels heavy, yet his head his floating.

"Okay, Cal," a voice tells him, "let's get you checked over."

"Wh-?" it comes out as a groan.

"You fainted," someone else says.

Cal blinks and two faces swim in front of him; Mrs Beauchamp and Charlie. The rest of the E.D. is blurry in the background but it's enough to remind him where he is.

"No," he says. His mouth feels dry. "No, no, I'm fine, I don't need-"

"Do as you're told, okay?" Connie says, primly.

Cal slumps into the chair. He rubs at his forehead. The skin is clammy. He lets Connie wheel him towards a cubicle, registering both an agency nurse scuttling out of their way and his elderly patient craning her neck at him, as if he's watching a film. He's grateful when the curtain around the cubicle is whisked shut and he's permitted some relative privacy.

"Can you manage to get onto the bed yourself?" Connie asks.

He nods in response but takes advantage of the arm Charlie offers him, surprised by how unsteady he feels. The mattress is soft by hospital standards and he shrinks into it, resting his aching head back against the pillows and letting his eyes flicker shut. As long as he's prescribed a sleep, he decides it'll be worth all this embarrassment and fuss.

But instead, the cold of a stethoscope against his chest forces his eyes open. Mrs Beauchamp is frowning as she listens to his heart and he feels his own brows move to mirror hers. He's seen that expression before.

"Pulse is slightly elevated," she says, to Charlie rather than him.

The nurse sighs. "He's not been himself all day. Distracted, disorientated…"

"Can I get a full set of obs. Bloods, urine, let's get to the bottom of this." She tuts. "You should have told me, Charlie."

Cal's brain suddenly catches up and he brings a fist down onto the mattress. They can take his pulse, his blood if they really want to, but he's _not_ peeing into a tube for the satisfaction of his colleagues.

"You're overreacting," he says.

"This isn't the hangover you told me it was, though, Cal, is it?"

"No," Connie answers for him. "Far from it. And I sincerely hope you didn't think it acceptable to use that as an excuse."

Cal rolls his eyes. The cubicle spins. He focuses on a crease in the curtain but by the time the world has stopped moving, Charlie has him hooked up to the monitor.

He lifts the finger the wire is attached to. "This is stupid," he says.

"You faint on my ward, you accept treatment," Connie tells him. "I'd like to see your leg."

Cal's gaze shoots to hers. His chest clenches. He's been trying to ignore any troubling thoughts about his leg but it's harder to dismiss now that someone else has suggested it, especially that person being Mrs Beauchamp. He raises his eyebrows, determined not to let her see his fear. "Which one?" he retorts.

She ignores his comment. "Trousers off, please."

"Are you serious?"

"I'd like to know how you'd expect me to examine you otherwise."

Cal looks at Charlie, longing for support. The nurse is too busy recording what's on the monitor's screen to realise he's needed in another way.

"Is your first line of enquiry for fainting _usually_ to check someone's leg?" he asks. "Because it sounds discriminatory to-" he breaks off, clasping his hand to his mouth as he's hit with a burst of nausea. He swallows down the bile. "-to me," he weakly finishes.

His retch has finally drawn Charlie's attention. The nurse squeezes his shoulder. "Time to stop fighting," he says. "Let us help."

Cal pauses, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing, as he considers. He doesn't want to acknowledge that he needs help and letting them examine him would do just that. But he's beginning to realise that finishing his shift isn't a possibility. Everything still aches. He exhales forcefully through his nose but unbuckles his belt and begins to ease his jeans down over his thighs.

At knee height, he shuffles into more of a sitting position and takes hold of the prosthesis beneath the hem of his trousers. Although he's used to removing it this way now, it still feels strange to do so in front of an audience, particularly when Mrs Beauchamp's arms are folded and she's waiting in anticipation to examine a part of him not many friends or colleagues have seen. He tugs his leg out of the prosthesis and lifts it so it's free from his jeans.

"I want a blanket," he says.

He's not that bothered about them seeing him in his boxers but feels like now is an appropriate time to remind them he's a person, not just a patient for them to poke and prod.

While Charlie is fetching him one, he watches Connie pull on a pair of latex gloves. Suddenly, he's thrown back to those early days in hospital after his accident, when everything felt huge and scary and alien. His stomach churns. Connie gives him a rare and gentle smile which prompts him to wonder how badly his emotions had bled onto his face.

Charlie returns and passes him a blanket. He positions it haphazardly across his lap and doesn't let go, gripping the coarse material as if it's the only thing that can keep him calm.

"May I go ahead?" Connie asks.

He keeps his nod brief.

As she takes his leg in her hands, he stares at the ceiling, counting how many tiles he can see from his position on the bed. He only makes it to eleven before a sudden pain in his leg causes him to flinch. Black spots threaten to envelop him again.

"Deep breath, Cal," Charlie says. "Alright?"

He gasps out a _yeah_.

"Okay," Connie says. She removes the gloves and throws them in the bin in disgust. "Right. You have an infected abscess."

Cal's heart sinks.

"And if," she continues, "you _dare_ to tell me you weren't aware, I'll seriously reconsider your merit as a doctor."

He closes his eyes, deciding silence is the best policy. He hadn't been aware it was infected but only because he'd been too scared to check it for days. As soon as the symptoms had started he'd decided it was easier to lie, both to himself and everyone else. Being tired or hungover or even coming down with a nasty cold were all preferable to something else being wrong with his leg.

"Honestly, Cal, this is irresponsible."

"Connie, go easy on him. I'm sure he's feeling rotten."

"Oh, I'm sure he is," she says, "but this should have been avoided."

"Look," Cal interrupts, opening his eyes. "Can't you just give me some antibiotics and be done with it!"

"You know it's not as simple as that. This will need cleaning and draining for a start, and I'd like to check the type of infection, the root cause…"

"Same bloods still?" Charlie asks.

"Full count, please." Connie pauses. "And, Cal, it should go without saying, but the prosthesis will need to remain off while the infection clears."

"What?" Cal's heart returns to his ears. He snatches his arm away from Charlie. "No."

"How else would the wound heal?"

"It'll be fine." Cal looks between the two of them desperately. "It _will_. Please."

"Cal, I'm sorry-" she sounds gentler now.

Cal sinks further down in the bed. That news has made his head ache worse than anything else has today. The prosthetic leg is his gateway to normality and he doesn't know how he's meant to manage without it. The prick in his arm as Charlie takes his bloods barely hurts. Everything else is so much more painful.

There's a loud noise as the curtain is suddenly whisked to one side and Ethan bursts into the cubicle.

"What's happened?" he demands. "Noel said you collapsed. Are you okay?" He gives Cal less than a second's chance to reply before turning to Connie. "Is he-? Oh. Oh."

Cal holds his breath and waits for his brother to get over the shock of seeing whatever state his leg is in. It doesn't take long.

"Caleb, that's infected!" Ethan yelps. "How has this happened? Why haven't you had it treated? What-"

"Ethan, some breathing space, please," Connie interrupts, and Cal has never been more grateful towards her. "He's going to be fine, okay? Minor infection."

"Are you sure?"

Cal can see his brother itching to get closer and examine it for himself but there's something else that bothers him more. "Hang on, _minor_ infection?" he says. He pushes himself up on his elbows. "Then, no. _No_. I don't need to stop wearing my prosthesis for that."

"I know it's not what you want to hear," Connie says. "But it's not up for deliberation."

"You can't take it from me."

"You'd be harming your health."

Cal scoffs. "I'm a doctor too, you know."

"Okay then, Doctor Knight," she says. "Examine it yourself. What would you advise a patient in this position?"

There's a pause.

Ethan clears his throat. "He, um, needs a mirror."

A flicker of guilt crosses Connie's face but Cal doesn't waste long on marvelling at how unnatural the expression looks. It's not her who has annoyed him.

"I can speak for myself, Ethan," he snaps.

"I- I know."

"Why are you even here? I didn't ask for you."

"I'm your brother," Ethan replies, in the patronisingly gentle tone Cal hates.

Cal ignores him and stares at the chunk of cotton wool that Charlie is firmly pressing against the needle stick wound in his arm.

"Listen," Ethan continues. "It'll just be a few weeks without it. It'll fly by, honestly."

Bitterly, Cal shakes his head.

"Got the bloods, Charlie?" Connie asks. "Good. Once you've sent those off, I want him on IV antibiotics. And let's give him 1 gram of paracetamol."

"Cal-" Ethan tries again.

"No, I'm talking now," Connie says, in the same tone as when she's asking Cal why he's so far behind with his paperwork. "I'll also prescribe you a two week course of Amoxicillin to be getting on with. You'll need a follow up appointment, okay, and speak to your specialists about why you developed the abscess, make sure you're doing what you should be to take care of your leg."

"Well, evidently, he's not," Ethan says.

Cal pulls a face. "Shut up."

"You _know_ you're meant to seek medical attention at the first sign of anything untoward."

"Spare me the lecture."

"I'm just worried-"

"You know what, Ethan," Cal snaps. "Just go. I don't need you here."

"No. No, I've ignored my best judgement and listened to you for days every time you told me you were okay. I'm not doing that again. I'm staying.

"Enough," Connie says. She folds her arms across her chest and looks at them like they are small children. "You two are quite ridiculous. Ethan, your patients?"

Ethan looks flustered, as if he'd completely forgotten he was in the middle of a shift. "Oh, um, all stable and being cared for."

"Then, Cal, I suggest you consider letting him stay." She puts a hospital gown on the bed and gives it a pointed nod. "You might be glad of the support. I need to irrigate the infection site next and it's going to hurt." Without waiting to see his reaction, she turns on her heels and leaves to find the equipment.

Cal stays silent but nausea rumbles in his stomach again. He doesn't feel he has the resilience to pain today. He takes the gown in his hands and stares at it. If Mrs Beauchamp was still there he'd argue with her that he isn't going to put it on because wearing it is the next step to getting admitted, and there's no way he's letting that happen.

"So, are you letting me stay?" Ethan asks.

Cal rubs at a tired eye. It doesn't seem a battle worth fighting. "Fine. As long as you shut up. You're giving me a headache."

"I presumed you already had- okay, okay, point taken." He takes a step backwards from the bed. "I'll just… be here. Quietly."

Cal lets their eyes meet for the first time since Ethan got there. He knows his brother would hear the fear in his voice even if he hid his face.

"So this is it, then," he says. The words taste sour in his mouth. "This is my life. Infections and pills and not being allowed to use my prosthetic leg."

"No," Ethan says. There's a pause and Cal can see him biting the inside of his lip. "No, Cal, and I promise I'm not trying to give a lecture, it's just… you- you must have let something slide. Moisturising, fresh socks for your leg… maybe something happened when you lost your prosthesis on Charlie's stag do?"

"That was ages ago," Cal mutters. "And I didn't lose it; I left it at the hotel reception."

"Unknowingly."

"Ethan!"

"You are still checking for sores, though, aren't you?"

"Yes," Cal says. It's not a complete lie. He's not stopped altogether but he hasn't been carrying out daily checks like he's supposed to. It feels like too much of a chore, particularly when he's come home exhausted after a night shift, longing to fall straight into bed.

"Because, if you're struggling, I can help you."

"No." The last think Cal thinks he needs is his little brother doctoring him. "No!" He huffs. "You make some stupid suggestions, Nibbles."

"How is that stupid?"

At a loss of how to explain it, Cal balls up the hospital gown and throws it at his brother. It lands across his head.

"Caleb!" Ethan scoops the gown to one side and throws it back, but onto the bed rather than Cal. "You're meant to be putting this on, not using it as a missile against me." He removes his lopsided glasses and scowls at them.

While Ethan is inspecting his glasses for any signs of damage, Cal changes into the gown. With it on, he immediately feels five times smaller and it's nothing to do with how the fabric is sized to accommodate a range of different builds. He looks at Ethan out of the corner of his eye. His brother has finally resettled his glasses and is staring firmly at the cubicle curtain, allowing him the privacy that wouldn't have even crossed Cal's consciousness had their positions been reversed.

He registers the tension in Ethan's shoulders. Cal supposes most people would appreciate the concern, but he's not one of them. He knows his brother handles worry through practical intervention; checklists and plans and a long conversation about what went wrong. Cal doesn't want any of that. He wants someone by his side to agree that the universe is shit and to help him drink a commiserative bottle of whisky.

But when Ethan turns to him he forcibly relaxes and Cal hopes that his brother is trying to handle this _his_ way for once.

"Ethan-" he begins,

The curtains rustle and Connie and Charlie return. Cal throws himself backwards against the fractionally tilted mattress and groans loudly.

"Thanks for the welcome, Doctor Knight."

"Look, can we get this over with?" he says

"Certainly," Connie replies, with a nod towards Charlie. She pulls on a fresh pair of gloves. "Okay, I'm going to administer some anaesthetic to your leg and while that's starting to work, Charlie will sort the IV." She removes the cap from the needle. "Just a sharp scratch, okay, Cal."

"I know what to- argh!" he says, crying out as the needle enters sensitive skin. He scrambles into a sitting position, certain he's about to see blood spurting out of his leg. But from the angle he's at, there's no sight of anything worse than Connie looking at him disparagingly, with a single raised eyebrow.

"Please remain still," she says.

He slumps backwards. It's not the first time he's wondered if Mrs Beauchamp is a sadist, but before it's always been when she's kept him from the pub by demanding he worked late. Now he considers whether she's acting in revenge because he's being grumpy or because he's left the department a doctor down. Thankfully, before he has chance to ask her, Charlie distracts him by securing a tourniquet around his arm. And when the nurse slides a needle into his vein, it hurts a lot less, so he supposes the state of his leg was to blame, rather than his boss.

Charlie removes the needle, secures the catheter with a piece of tape and attaches it to the bag of saline. Cal scowls at the drip; it's not painful, but it makes him feel like a patient again and that brings a hoard of bad memories. He plans to push the fluids through as soon as he's left on his own.

"Ready?" Connie asks.

"Whatever."

He wants to look away as soon as she lifts the scalpel but somehow watching the procedure helps him believe his reputation is still intact. She only makes a small incision. It barely hurts and momentarily he feels brave without having to fake it. But then she applies pressure either side of the abscess. His stomach churns. He turns his head away to gulp down the bile.

"Are you- sure- you know what you're doing?" he pants.

" _Cal_!"

"I'll ignore that in the circumstances," she says. "Unless you'd rather I found a passing F1?"

He grits his teeth and shakes his head. His presses a balled fist into the mattress and frowns as pain travels up his leg.

"It won't take long," she says, more gently this time. "And the pain relief Charlie gave you will kick in soon."

He grunts. Ethan squeezes his shoulder but it doesn't help. Whatever Mrs Beauchamp says, he knows it's going to _feel_ long. And being without his prosthesis will feel like forever.

* * *

Ethan holds the door to their flat open and waits as Cal struggles in on his crutches. The borrowed pair from the hospital are without the padding Ethan had secured around the handholds, but he suspects that's only a minute part of why his brother's arms are shaking so severely. He had offered to fetch the wheelchair from where it's folded and buried beneath a heap of Cal's belongings but the suggestion had been shot down even more severely than in the hospital when Mrs Beauchamp had offered one to get to the car.

He places both their bags on the table and gives his brother a forced smile. "Sit down, I'll put the kettle on."

Instead, he hears the tell-tale clicks of Cal following him into the kitchen.

"I want a second opinion," Cal says.

Ethan turns to him. There are creases around his brother's eyes that reveal the pain he's been trying to hide. "On?"

"Where have you been all afternoon!" Cal snaps. "My leg, Ethan. What else?!"

Ethan stomach sinks. "Right, well. It's definitely infected."

"Not that." Cal slams then end of a crutch down on the tiles. "The sore has been irrigated, I've got antibiotics. There's no harm in me wearing my prosthesis."

"I- I think you should follow Mrs Beauchamp's advice."

"She's not the expert!"

"Neither am I," Ethan says. "Ask Fran if you must, but… I honestly think you'll need to leave the prosthesis off to give the abscess chance to heal. You must see that."

"Oh I must, must I?"

Ethan takes a step closer. His brother is frighteningly pale. "Caleb, please, just sit down for a bit."

"I'm fine."

"I'm worried you're going to faint again."

Cal narrows his eyes. "Does fussing over me make you feel better about yourself or something?"

"I'm your brother, Cal. Believe it or not, I do care."

"Why aren't you on my side then?"

"Your side?" Ethan frowns. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"You _know_ how much of a difference having that leg makes to me." Cal glares at him, as if he was the one who physically took it away. "You should have told Beauchamp that not using it isn't an option, made her see sense."

"But, Cal-"

"But nothing."

" _Caleb_ ," Ethan persists. "She said you couldn't use it because that's the only way the abscess is going to heal."

Cal shakes his head. He looks close to tears.

"It's just for a couple of weeks," Ethan says, softly. A gnawing worry sticks in his throat. "You- you _are_ going to listen, aren't you? Please. You can't allow the infection to get any worse."

Cal stares at him for a few seconds, unblinking. Then he turns his back and swings back into the lounge, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _you can't stop me._

Ethan follows him, coffees forgotten. His brother remains standing even though he's just inches from the comfort of the sofa. Cal has his back to him but Ethan can see from his hunched shoulders that he's staring down at his foot.

"I know you're upset," he says. "But please be sensible about this. Don't wear your prosthesis for now."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Cal says.

"What?"

"Any excuse to play perfect Saint Ethan."

"What are you talking about?"

Cal turns to face him. His nose is pink but he's still holding back the tears. "You get a kick from clearing up my mess, don't deny it."

Ethan feels a thump in his chest but he just purses his lips and breaths out through his nose. He knows his brother does this when he's upset. He'll become as irritating or unpleasant as possible, anything to push him away and detract from what's really wrong. Ethan's ashamed to admit the tactic has worked on him more than once.

"I just want to help."

"I don't want your help."

"Well, you've got it, so tough."

"See, that's the thing," Cal says, managing a step closer to him. "That's why you're so annoying. You think I'm incapable, that I _need_ help. You can't bear the thought that I might be fine without you. You need me to be a screw up just to validate yourself."

"Caleb, that's nonsense."

"Is it?" Cal retorts. "God, sometimes I think you actually _invent_ things that I've done wrong, just so you can fix the imaginary problem. It's pathetic, Ethan."

Ethan tries to take a deep breath but it sticks in his throat. He blinks, reminds himself his brother's only picking a fight to divert his grief. He can't rise to it. He can't allow himself to make the situation worse.

"Why don't you put a film on," he suggests. His tone sounds forced, even to him.

"You're not going to try to prove me wrong?"

"I don't want to argue with you when you're like this."

"Like what?" Cal's eyes flash dangerously.

Ethan walks past him and picks up the TV remote from the sofa. He gave up reminding his brother to return it to the cabinet only a few months after he first moved in. He jabs at the remote and the screen flickers to life.

"Oh, the football's on," he says, injecting more enthusiasm into it than he'd ever done over the sport before.

Cal ignores him. "Like what?" he repeats.

Ethan sighs at his failed attempt. He's still determined not to stoke the argument but if Cal's too upset to relax, then perhaps a different tactic will help. It still pains him to think of watching his brother fall to pieces after the accident but he remembers how his mood had improved along with his physical progress. He understands that Cal is hurting again now that his independence has been stripped away, albeit temporarily.

"Look, I know how you feel," he says.

"No, Ethan, you _don't_ know how I feel."

"Then tell me."

Cal's jaw twitches and Ethan hopes he's considering it. He holds his breath and stays silent, giving his brother chance to find the words. The crowd at the football match on the television jeer loudly.

"You actually want me to spell out how useless I feel?" Cal says. "Thanks, Ethan. Really helpful."

"No! That's not what I-"

"It's been like this our whole lives. A competition. Except you can't move on from being that little kid who got bullied at school and the only way you know to improve your own self-esteem is by trying to destroy mine."

Ethan shakes his head but he can't speak. His brother knows exactly which buttons to press to hurt him the most.

"Are you pleased, Ethan? That I fucked up again. Are you glad it's given you another chance to show off what a _nice guy_ you are?"

"Stop this," Ethan pleads. His voice cracks as his restraint finally crumbles. "Why are you saying all this? None of it's true."

"It's true that I fucked up, though, isn't it?" His eyes are damp. "That's what you said. Back at the hospital."

Ethan pauses. He feels a look of horror take over his face. He can vaguely remember accusing Cal of not looking after himself, but he'd done so out of fear of how ill the infection could have made his brother.

Cal nods bitterly, his head hanging and chest heaving.

"Cal, just please sit down. You don't look well."

"But I deserve it, don't I?"

"Of course not."

"Brought it on myself though."

Ethan takes a deep breath. "I didn't mean it like that. Honestly. I just- I was worried, and I wished there was a way this could have been avoided so you didn't have to go through it."

"Yeah, well, you were right," Cal says. "It could have been avoided. But it's me, I screw everything up. You can't be surprised." He looks up defiantly at Ethan, daring him to contradict him. "I couldn't be bothered to check it all the time. Takes too long. Reminds me that I'm _different_."

Ethan takes a step closer, desperate to comfort his brother. But Cal flinches away from his touch and clumsily swings across the room on his crutches.

"Where are you going?"

Cal ignores him and so Ethan follows, bracing himself to block the front door in case his brother decides to do a disappearing act like he had all those months ago. But Cal just gives him a look of disgust, as if he's read his thoughts, and continues to his bedroom.

Ethan hovers in Cal's doorway. His head aches from their argument. He watches as his brother shakes the crutches from his wrists. One crashes against the wardrobe and Ethan winces at the noise as if it had hit him instead. He dreads to think what damage they could cause.

"Perhaps I could stay for a bit?" he attempts.

Ethan gets his answer by way of the door slamming in his face.


	26. Chapter 26

Sorry it's been a bit longer than sometimes - I've been prioritising real life recently, has to be done occasionally haha. Hope this part isn't a let down - I can't pretend I'm confident with it, especially the latter half, but I wanted to finally get it posted. I appreciate each and every review, so if you have the time, please leave me a few words.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thanks for reviewing - agreed, poor both brothers. Hope you enjoy the update.

 **casfics:** Glad to see you back and hope things are okay with you. Thanks for reviewing, I'm so pleased you're still enjoying it. Yep, you've got it, plus I also think that Cal is acting that way partly as a defence mechanism, to push the upset onto something other than his health, and partly because he doesn't want to show Ethan how he actually feels - although, of course, Ethan knows him well enough to see through that. Thanks again.

 **InfinityAndOne:** Thank you so much and for saying the conversation seems life like - that's a huge compliment. Yeah, I feel bad for both of them too but lets see how long I manage to keep them apart for haha. Glad you think Cal's reaction is understandable. I nearly didn't write it like that, but it just seemed more accurate for the character. Hope you like the next chapter.

* * *

26.

* * *

It's early. Ethan stares out of his bedroom window. The streetlights are fading, the sun just rising and there's no-one to be seen other than his neighbour's cat prowling around the minimal greenery outside the building. It should be peaceful but Ethan's been up most the night and the only thing worse than his tired eyes is his throbbing headache, a consequence of the racing brain that kept him awake.

He's never been a good sleeper. Their mum had always claimed that the hours before breakfast were the only time he caused more trouble than Cal. The older brother may have resisted sleep, but when it came, he slept soundly. Ethan, more often than not, would give up, switch on the small torch that always ended up back in his possession no matter how many times it was confiscated, and read until morning. His mum had tried telling him that was the reason he needed glasses but Ethan, even as a child, knew it didn't work that way.

Back then his mum would sometimes sit with him and quietly hum, always songs from the 70s rather than what was popular at the time, the same ones she played around the house and sang a cappella in the car. It had never done much to aid Ethan's sleep but had helped the frustration of being awake at a time he wasn't allowed to do any of the things that usually kept him occupied. He tries it now, purses his lips together and lets the familiar notes of an old song fill the room. He's not a confident singer but can adequately carry a tune and manages to keep it going all the way through the first verse and chorus until, with a small sigh, he gives up. He's not soothed. His bed remains the enemy. The key difference though, between then and now, is that he's no longer confined to the four walls of his room.

He dresses quickly into shorts and a t-shirt he's had so long that the blue has faded to a dull grey. Outside Cal's room, he pauses, tilts his head and holds his breath as he listens. There's nothing but the odd snuffle of heavy breathing. He's relieved his brother is asleep now and not just for the respite from painful accusations. One of the best things for infections is rest. He scribbles a note, just in case his brother wakes while he's out. Cal will probably scrunch it into a ball and throw it at the bin if he sees it, but Ethan doesn't want to give him actual ammunition by disappearing without a word. He shuts the front door behind him as quietly as he can and heads down the stairs at a jog.

For a moment he stands revelling in the fresh spring air. It's not something he's had much time to enjoy recently. Even if he ventures outside during lunch breaks, the hospital grounds are filled with fumes from cars, ambulances and those sucking desperately at cigarettes. Most days he remains in the staff room, hunched over a coffee and waiting for the moment someone shouts that he's needed in Resus. The neighbour's cat winds itself around his ankles. Ethan's not usually keen on animals but its obvious pleasure at being around him is a welcome distraction from the atmosphere at home. He bends to stroke it. Its ginger fur holds the dew of an early morning spent among the plant beds. He talks to the cat under his breath, bidding it farewell and promising to stop next time their paths crossed. If they were on speaking terms, Cal would tell him he was losing the plot. Ethan wonders if he may be right.

He breaks into a run as soon as he's up the drive from their block. Since Cal's accident, he hasn't had time to run as often as he would like and he can feel it already, the burning in his thighs and the thudding against his ribcage. He has to push himself to maintain an acceptable pace. But about half way around something happens and his head clears, as if the cool breeze blew away his worries. He doesn't think about anything other than the sound as his feet hit the floor one after the other, getting faster and faster until he can continue no longer. He comes to a stop against a tree, arms outstretched, t-shirt damp, and he pants, his chest heaving as he fights to retain composure. He's certain he's just broken his own undocumented speed records.

When they were children, he and Cal used to race across the park they lived opposite. His brother always won, even when their mum convinced him to let Ethan have a head start, and his gloating was barely pacified by reminders that his legs were much longer. But Ethan recalls the last time they raced, along the beach while their other mother watched, and knows that their fight for the finish line was close, the winner realistically disputed rather than through sibling rivalry. He turns and leans against the tree, his breaths still falling heavily but for other reasons this time. Cal can't run currently. Someday, potentially soon, he won't be able to either. Ethan's hit with a burst of grief so intense he doubles over. He longs for one more time, him and his brother side by side, laughing as they sprint, joking as they bicker over who was faster.

He walks home rather than runs, his body weak from lack of sustenance. There are a few other people around now, joggers, dog-walkers and a young girl in last night's party dress that Ethan debates asking if she's okay. The sky has turned blue-grey from its previous yellow. Overhead, birds rustles leaves in the trees. It's a new day now, confirmed by schedules rather than simply the hour.

Their lounge remains unoccupied, Ethan's note still flat on the table. He bins it himself and tiptoes down the corridor. There's still no sound from his brother's room. He takes his time as he showers, making the most of it still being well ahead of the time he needs to leave for his shift. This time as he passes Cal's room he can hear the tinny sound of something being played on his phone that confirms he's awake. Ethan pauses, considering knocking, but then a better idea comes into his head.

He returns to the door with a coffee in his hand and without deliberating gives it a sharp rap.

"Coffee delivery," he calls.

There's no response from the other side.

"Cal. Coffee."

This time the noise from whatever his brother was listening to ceases, but there's still no reply. Ethan sighs to himself. This may have been a bad idea but it's too late to back out now.

"Can I come in? If you don't answer I'll take that as a yes."

"No," Cal says.

Ethan takes a deep breath and opens the door.

His brother is upright in bed, half covered by the duvet, hair sticking up at odd angles and glowering towards Ethan. "Oh, so you ignore me anyway."

"I had to give you your coffee." He steps over a pile of discarded clothing and places the mug on the small chest of drawers next to Cal. "How are you feeling?"

Cal shrugs but Ethan decides he'll take that. It's better than a complete blank.

"Um, I've got a shift soon," he continues. "But if you want I'll phone in and stay at home with you instead."

"And make them two doctors down?"

"Well, I could. If you want."

Cal shakes his head. "No. I want to be on my own."

"Anything you need?"

"Some peace and quiet."

Ethan nods. He's got the hint. "Okay," he says. "Phone me if you need me."

"I won't need you," Cal replies without hesitation.

Ethan turns away, his chest aching at the dismissal. "Okay," he says again. "I'll see you later."

There's no reply this time. Ethan shuts the door behind him but stares at it disparagingly rather than moving down the corridor straight away. He hopes his brother doesn't spend all day shut in his room like he had the previous evening. He would much rather Cal had asked him to stay at home and he'd been given the chance to coax him out of his room to watch a film or even play a game of chess like the old days.

But instead, Ethan's left to eat breakfast on his own. He does so without either the television or radio for background noise so that he's easily able to hear if Cal calls him. At one point he thinks he hears his brother swear and so he pauses, spoonful of cereal midway to his mouth, and listens. There are no further utterances but the flat is suddenly filled with music, a rock song that Ethan recognises but can't name, and so he assigns the swearing to frustration over the old speakers that only ever work after a hard smack.

He calls goodbye as he leaves for work. Again, he gets no response, but this time Ethan tries to convince himself that his brother hadn't heard him over the volume of the music. He sighs at the thumping of the beat. The neighbour opposite has taken a dislike to them ever since Cal had woken him at 3am by hammering on the wrong door and Ethan won't be surprised if he gets home from work to discover a handwritten note demanding they be more considerate. Usually he would warn Cal, but today he'll take the angry neighbour over increasing the bad vibes between him and his brother.

By the time Ethan arrives at work, he still has over thirty minutes before his shift is due to start. It's the one thing that has gone to plan. With his legs still aching from the over-exuberant morning run, he opts for the lift over than the stairs. The Neurology department is unfamiliar territory but luckily he spots Fletch and manages to get directions to the patient he's after without an inquest in why his professional interest has extended to ununiformed visits.

The lower two thirds of the ICU windows are frosted and Ethan has to stand on his tiptoes to peer through. Just to the left he spots Nathan, prone in bed, still ventilated, head swathed in bandages and bruising around both eyes. He's seen most things as a doctor but he still feels apprehensive watching patient's at their sickest. He prefers it downstairs in the emergency department where there's never any time to consider how ill someone is to the limbo of ICU. He switches his gaze to Kai. He has his boyfriend's hand in one of his and a book in the other. Ethan can tell from the way that his lips move that he's reading out loud to him but there are frequent pauses while his eyes rest on Nathan rather than the book.

Ethan jumps as Fletch clears his throat and lets them both through to the unit. The sterile smell makes his nose tingle. The beeping and hissing of machines somehow feel louder than the war cries of the E.D. When Kai sees him, his eyes widen and he stands to greet him, making Nathan's hand fall limply back onto the mattress.

"Doctor Hardy?" Kai says.

"It's, um, Ethan. You can call me Ethan."

"Ethan," Kai repeats. "Is everything..?"

"Can we go outside?" he asks. He can already see frown lines appearing on the Ward Sister's face. "Not for long. Just to talk."

Kai hesitates and his gaze flickers back to his partner. "Not for long," he agrees. He leans over the bed and his lips brush Nathan's cheek.

Ethan offers a wordless nod of an apology. He can still remember how hard it was to leave Cal during his short period of unconsciousness. In the corridor he points at the red plastic chairs as if he's offering up a treat. Kai sits, but his head strains towards the doors of ICU. Ethan knows he's scared to be away from Nathan for long. It's why he hadn't suggested the relative's room or the cafeteria despite their more amicable comfort.

"I wanted to apologise for running off yesterday," Ethan says. "My brother was taken ill. I- I wouldn't have in usual circumstances."

"Is he okay?"

"He will be."

"Good." Kai sighs. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone."

Ethan fights to keep an impassive expression. "How is he?"

"Stable. That's all anyone is saying. He's stable."

"The first few hours are critical. Remaining stable throughout is a positive sign."

"I- I dunno, is it?" Kai finally looks at him, eyes hopeful. "I just want someone to tell me he'll definitely be okay."

"I'm sure they'll be able to tell you more soon," Ethan says. He considers giving the medical perspective but he knows his colleagues in Neuro will have done that already and it still won't give the one answer Kai is desperate to hear. "How did it go with the police?"

Kai dabs at his cheek with his cuff. The bruise glistens from the damp of his tears. "Not enough information to pull anyone in for questioning."

"But you had his name!"

"Yeah, and how many thousands of people are called Scott?"

"That's what the police said?"

"Not in so many words. I could see it on their faces. Polite. Listening but not really _hearing_." He sniffs. "Nath's just a number to them. I've seen it on the news, there's always people getting beaten up around here these days."

"Then that gives them even more incentive to catch the perpetrators!" Ethan says, outraged.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Kai shakes his head. "It doesn't really matter. Nothing does as long as Nathan gets better."

Ethan's quiet as he considers. He knows if their positions were reversed, he'd feel the same. Nothing matters as much as the ones you love. "Have they told you when they're going to reduce his sedation?" he asks.

"A couple of days."

"That's good."

"It feels like forever."

"I know, but the fact they're already planning for it means the swelling on his brain must be going down."

Kai nods but his shoulders slump and another tear escapes his eye. Ethan feels like he's been here hundreds of times with Cal, watching his lips tremble as he finds a way to voice his fears. The difference is Kai accepts the tissue he offers and visibly relaxes when Ethan places a hand on his back. Ethan manages an encouraging nod but he can't help but wish his brother would allow him to comfort him this way too.

"Thanks," Kai says. He clutches at the tissue.

"Everything's going to be okay," Ethan tells him.

"But," he says, "But what if-?" He takes a shaky breath. "What if he wakes up and- and he's different?"

Ethan pauses. He can almost hear his brother crying as he struggled to come to terms with the changes in his life. He knows the answer to Kai's question. Nothing has ever been so obvious. "Then that's when he needs you the most," he replies. "That's when he needs you whatever he might pretend. Even when it's hard. _Especially_ when it's hard."

Kai sits upright and looks him straight in the eye. "You've been here, haven't you? You get it."

"Oh, I-" Ethan wrinkles his nose. His glasses slip slightly and so he takes them off, as if that was his intention all along. "I can relate, yes. Different circumstances."

"You don't have to tell me," Kai says. "But thank you for coming. For listening."

Ethan gives a courteous nod in return. No words seem appropriate. A silent understanding passes between them and Kai turns his head back to the door of ICU.

"I want to be there for him, you know, whatever happens. I just don't know if I'm strong enough."

"You'll find the strength."

"I hope so."

Ethan squeezes Kai's shoulder. "Go back to him," he says gently.

Kai nods, takes a deep breath and struggles to his feet like an elderly man.

Ethan watches as they exchange one final weak smile and Kai returns into ICU. He knows already he'll check up on Nathan's progress. Uncertainties are among the hardest things to deal with and he wishes both of them the best.

On cue, his phone buzzes against his thigh. He pulls it from his pocket and smiles at the text, short enough for him to read on the lock screen. His brother, short, to the point but lacking any of the animosity from the night before: _thanks for the coffee._

* * *

Cal jabs at the remote. The television falls silent. The echoing quietness is no better than the chirpy presenters he's been listening to for the last hour and a half. He growls. Day one of being trapped at home and he's already so bored he's been trying to calculate the amount of sickies he's pulled over the years, wishing he could work them now in lieu. He comes to no other conclusion than that he used to be an idiot. He used to take his health for granted, phoning in sick because he was hungover, had a hot date or simply couldn't be bothered.

He throws himself backwards on the sofa. Pain shoots through him. He hisses. He hadn't realised how hard he had smacked the floor yesterday until he woke up this morning with aching in his lower back and stiffness in his hips. He'd taken a look not long ago and seen a bruise extending from his side to the base of his spine, purple in colour and giving no impression of fading any time soon. The mirror he had used was the same that Ethan had put in the optimum position in his room for checking the wellbeing of his stump. The irony is far from being lost on him.

The tenderness in his back is nothing compared to the aching of his leg, but both of them together hurt less than the self-hatred from knowing he brought it all on himself. One of the last memories Cal has before his dad finally walked out on them is of an argument, clenched fists and hot words, _you screwed up, Caleb, you always do and you always will._ He can't remember what provoked the incident but at sixteen it was likely to be one of three things; failing an exam, coming home drunk or getting caught with a girl no-one approved of. But this time the consequences are bigger than being forced to study while hungover or provide a written apology to the lady whose garden he borrowed at an attempt of a romantic evening under the stars.

Rationally, he knows he got off easy with a course of antibiotics. He's seen similar infections left without treatment that have led to sepsis or multiple organ failure. He's seen it on people just like him, people who should have the capacity to know better. But none of that changes that the prospect of spending weeks without his prosthesis throws him straight back to those dark months after the accident. He has neither the patience nor the decorum to tolerate how even the simplest of tasks requires planning, determination and a lot of luck.

He presses a clenched fist into the material of the sofa. Even during his lowest period he was persuadable that it wasn't his fault. But now he knows he only has himself to blame. He should have had the impetus to follow instructions, to check his leg daily rather than on the rare occasions he could be bothered, to understand that being told to do so was not just an option. He should have learnt he wasn't invincible the day a helicopter destroyed his lower leg. But just as his dad told him, he screwed up. And he knows it's true. Ethan's expression last night had said as much.

And, while he hadn't _meant_ those things he'd said to his brother, he'd certainly intended to say them. He'd needed a way to shut Ethan up, to get rid of him before he said something Cal didn't want to hear. And it was easy. They were close enough for him to know how to push his buttons, how to change his expression into something other than disappointment and pity. It had worked. But Cal knows he took things too far. Pushing his brother away had seemed like the best thing to do at the time. But now he's alone and in desperate need of a friendly face.

He retrieves his phone from where it's trapped between the two sofa cushions and rereads Ethan's reply to his peace-offering message thanking him for the coffee: _any time_. The breezy two-word response is as good as he could have expected, in the circumstances, and earlier, when he'd first received it, his heart had stopped hammering against his chest for long enough to descend into a grateful ache. He knows his brother has every right to be angry with him. He was cruel last night. He was almost as bad this morning, desperate to keep Ethan from his room simply because he wasn't ready to give the apology he knew he deserved.

The sound of a key rattles in the hallway and as the front door creaks open, Cal holds his breath. He's desperate for company but the alternatives, an argument or silent treatment, make him dread Ethan's arrival as much as he's looking forward to it. He risks a glance over the top of the sofa and watches as his brother sneaks a hand beneath his glasses and rubs at an eye. Ethan stretches upwards to hang his coat and yawns, neglecting to cover his mouth in a completely uncharacteristic manner.

"Hey," Cal calls.

"Hi," Ethan responds, his tone cautious.

"Good day at work?"

"Not particularly."

Cal's shoulders slump and he frantically searches for a response, anything to prevent any awkwardness flooding the room. "Least you _can_ work," he says.

Ethan raises his eyebrows and Cal knows it was the wrong thing to say. He hadn't meant it antagonistically but it had slipped out before he'd had the chance to swallow the words. Ethan walks towards him. He repositions himself on the sofa so that there's room for his brother to sit down too, should he want.

But instead, Ethan hurries past and crouches to pick up the various items scattered on the floor. Cal had been quite proud of his ingenuity; he may not be able to carry a bowl of cereal without slopping the milk over the sides as he hops, but by shutting it in a closed Tupperware box and wedging it under an arm, he'd been able to make it back to the sofa on his crutches. There's less of a success story attached to the KitKat wrapper and half empty packet of crisps.

He watches as Ethan grabs the rubbish with one hand and juggles the plastic box and coffee flask with the other. While Ethan's in the kitchen Cal sweeps the room with his eyes and, confident there is nothing else that needs tidying away, hopes his brother will join him. But Ethan returns with a damp cloth and begins wiping at a table that definitely doesn't need it.

"Look, can you stop doing that?" he asks.

"Doing what?"

" _That_." Cal nods at the cloth. "Avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you, Caleb."

"Then come and sit down."

Ethan looks like it pains him but he leaves the balled cloth in the middle of the table and walks stiffly towards him.

"Sit down," Cal says again. He waits until his brother has lowered himself to the sofa, albeit perched on the edge. "So. What was bad about work?"

"It was fine."

"You said-"

"I said it wasn't good. It wasn't bad." Ethan's shoulders tense. "It was fine."

Cal frowns at his brother's back. "Ethan, come on, don't be like this. You know I didn't mean what I said."

Ethan finally turns to face him. He's dry-eyed but he still removes his glasses, just as he would if he was about to cry. "Doesn't make it okay, though."

"No," Cal concedes.

"No." Ethan shrugs. "I know you were upset but I wanted to help. I still do! But not if you're going to lash out every time I try."

Cal fights to twist his mouth into a grateful smile. He can feel his bottom lip trembling. "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Okay." Ethan nods. "Forgiven. But listen, you're my brother, I'll always be here for you, alright, but only if you let me."

"I know," Cal says, his voice barely a murmur. He closes his eyes. "I just- why do I _always_ do this? Why can't I ever get anything right?" He jumps as Ethan's hand closes on his shoulder. "I- I mean, I could have. I _should_ have, I'm a doctor, how bloody hard is it to check on a wound!"

Ethan's quiet and Cal can feel him reading his expression. "Cal," he says, hesitantly. "You must have known you weren't well."

"It could have been a hangover, though," he says. "Or exhaustion. I mean, I'm always tired these days."

"Well that's because using a prosthetic leg requires 80% more energy," Ethan replies.

"Does it?"

"Yes, I read-"

"How much for crutches?"

Ethan stares at him and Cal waits long enough for his brother's eyes to glaze over trying to figure out the answer before he cracks a small smile.

"Oh," Ethan replies. "Oh, you're joking, aren't you?"

"You know I love a good Nibbles Statistic."

Ethan chuckles slightly and Cal lets himself relax. The silence is comfortable, especially when Ethan rests back on the sofa and finally stops giving the impression that he might up and leave at any given opportunity. Cal watches his brother for a moment, out of the corner of his eye so he doesn't get caught. Ethan looks tired but content and it gives him the encouragement he needs to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. He knows once he's voiced the question, there's no going back. His fears will be out there and potentially validated.

"Ethan," Cal says. Even though his volume is quiet, it still seems to echo around the room. "Do you think it'll be different? You know, after 2, 3, weeks without my prosthesis. I will still remember, won't I? I won't have to learn all over again?"

"You'll remember," Ethan says.

"How do you _know_ that?"

"I do. It's part of you now, right? You have the muscle strength that you need."

"You don't sound all that sure."

"Then phone Fran and get confirmation."

Cal wrinkles his nose. "Nah."

Ethan gives him that all knowing look of his. "Mrs Beauchamp did tell you to speak with her." He pauses. "I think you'll feel much better once she's put your mind at rest."

"What, _Fran_? No, she's just going to tell me I'm an idiot for letting it happen. And Mo will be a hundred times worse."

"It's only because they care."

"That's unbelievably cringey."

Ethan passes him his own mobile phone. "Just do it, Caleb."

Cal accepts the phone but stares at it like he's just been handed a weapon. "Fine." He sighs. "I better cancel my next appointment anyway. Won't be needing that now!"


	27. Chapter 27

Hey. Firstly I would like to apologise for such an enormous wait. I could write a massive paragraph explaining why but lets just say for the first half I was really busy and the second half I really struggled to get back the ability to write anything anywhere near acceptable!

To be honest, I am still far from happy with this chapter. I confess that I hate writing the medical stuff (picked the wrong programme to write about haha!) and especially with this one being based on an episode that dipped in and out of the procedures, leaving me to guess what happened in the middle. So again I apologise, this time if it's inaccurate or badly written.

I can only keep my fingers crossed that I haven't lost you all with the wait. I would really appreciate a quick wave to let me know if you're still here.

 _Recap if anyone wants it: Cal is off sick after developing an infection in his leg and being unable to wear his prosthetic until it heals. He lashed out verbally at Ethan as a result of being upset over this but they have now made up. Ethan has been treating a couple at work called Kai and Nathan who were assaulted and named the culprit as someone called Scott - the police did not have enough information to make any arrests._

 **panicpeachpit:** Thank you for reviewing, it came at the perfect time to spur me on to continue writing this despite the difficulties. Glad you enjoyed the dynamics between the brothers. I love them getting on, but the odd argument is more realistic and actually quite fun to write. Hope you enjoy the update.

* * *

27.

* * *

The laptop shakes as Cal laughs. Ethan doesn't mind; he wasn't really watching it anyway, the slapstick comedy being much more his brother's taste than his own. Still, he smiles. It's obvious that Cal is feeling better already and that's something worth far more than getting to choose what to watch.

As Cal rights the laptop and pushes himself more upright on the bed, Ethan subtly checks his watch. It's two-twenty and if he doesn't leave within the next ten minutes, there's no chance of arriving at work in time to have his customary pre-shift coffee. His sigh accidentally alerts his brother.

"You've got to go?" Cal asks, pressing pause.

"Soon. Sorry."

"It's fine," Cal says, but his smile has dropped.

Ethan swings his legs over the side of the bed and fluffs the pillow he'd been leaning against. He keeps his back turned so that his brother can't see the concern on his face. "Do you have plans for this afternoon?"

"Well, I thought I might go for a run."

Ethan stiffens. "Cal-"

"Relax, I'm joking." Cal drags himself across the mattress and rests his head on his arms beside Ethan. His legs remain beneath the covers but his bare back is exposed. "It was funny, right?"

"Not really."

"You used to have a sense of humour."

"I still do."

Ethan turns to bare his teeth at Cal in a feeble attempt at a smile but his attention is soon drawn elsewhere. On Cal's lower back is a bruise, mottled browns and purples in colour, one which Ethan knows must have been created from when he collapsed at work.

Cal registers what he has seen with a grimace. "Oh, no you don't," he says. He reaches for the duvet and pulls it up, cocooning himself beneath.

"That looks sore. Can I take a look?"

"Eyes to yourself, Nibbles," comes the muffled response.

Ethan frowns at the heap of Cal beneath the duvet. It's impossible not to recall the consequences the last time his brother hid an ailment but he knows logically that it's nothing more than a bruise.

He takes a deep breath and pats the duvet where he deduces Cal's shoulder will be. "I'm going to get ready for work," he says. "Tell me you'll get out of bed at some point today."

There's a sigh. "Yes, whatever."

"Caleb, I mean it. It's not healthy to be cooped up in here."

"I said yes, didn't I!" Cal's head resurfaces. "I _will_. I've got to see Fran in a bit."

"Oh. I thought you cancelled your appointment?"

"Yeah, I did. Apparently she wants to talk to me about something though, so she said she'll come over after work."

"She's coming here?" Ethan raises his eyebrows. He's sure that crosses the line of professional boundaries.

Cal shrugs. "Saves me the taxi fare."

"Yes, well, you could have told me sooner. I'd have cleaned the-" He breaks off suddenly as something occurs to him. He fixes Cal with a stare. "Hang on, is something going on between you two?"

"Something like _what_?"

"You know." He nods towards Cal's bed, not quite willing to voice the words. He dreads to think what an impact it will have on his brother if he's forced to change prosthetist and ends up with someone he can't gel with. "Something like _that_."

"You mean, am I sleeping with her?"

"Well, are you?"

Cal pushes himself upright. "Ethan, she's _married_!"

"It's not like that's stopped you before," Ethan says. He can still remember the time years ago when their drink in the pub got disturbed by a man, red-faced and bulging veins, who claimed his wife had been having an affair with Cal. Both of the brother's had ended up with bloody noses that night; Ethan, from the man, by stepping in front of his brother, and Cal from Ethan, for putting him in that position.

"When I was young, maybe. Not now."

"So… you're not."

"No. I'm not," Cal says. "Why? Do you reckon she fancies me?"

Ethan grins. "Not if she's got any taste."

He sees Cal's arm reaching for the pillow and jumps up from the bed before his brother has a chance to whack him with it. As he races for cover in the hallway, the pillow grazes his back. He lets out a high pitch yelp and dives into his own room.

"If you want to get me, you'll have to come find me," he calls.

"Bastard," Cal calls back, but Ethan can hear the laughter in his voice.

* * *

Fran looks weird in his flat. Shorter. Less formal, even though she's wearing the same style of smart work trousers she always does. Cal swings awkwardly on the spot, shifting his weight between his leg and his crutches.

"Aren't you going to offer me a coffee?" she asks.

He relaxes. This is familiar ground. "Coffee? Not a G&T?"

"Driving," she says. "Unfortunately."

"Just as well, I don't think I've ever bought a bottle of gin. Ethan tells me off if my booze cupboard looks too full."

"Surely it's better if it's full," she says. "Being empty means you've already consumed it."

"Yeah, well, I'm on antibiotics, remember."

He leads her through to the kitchen and switches on the kettle. His crutches hang loosely on his arms as he stretches into the cupboard for a spare mug. His balance has improved vastly and so there's only one occasion where he has to take hold of the shelf to stabilise himself.

"You look well," she says.

"Liar."

"When you phoned, you made it sound as though you were at death's door."

He heaps the coffee granules into the mugs. "Don't tell me you were worried."

"I would have been if I didn't know you so well."

"Hey, I'm allowed to feel sorry for myself sometimes."

She pauses and Cal opts to assume she's waiting for the noise of the boiling kettle to die down rather than imagine what she might be thinking.

"How are you feeling today then?"

He shrugs. "I'm okay."

"Yes, you _are_ ," she says. "You're lucky. It could have been a lot worse."

"Don't," he mutters. He pours the milk a little too vigorously and it splashes some of the coffee onto the work surface. He doesn't mop up the spillage; his brother can do it later.

"You want me to carry?" she says, nodding at the drinks. "Look, Cal, I could quite easily spend an entire hour lecturing you but I have no doubt you've heard it all already from Ethan, from Connie Beauchamp…"

"Yeah, trust me, I've heard it." He leads the way back into the lounge, maintaining a slightly faster pace than he usually would, eager for her to see what he can manage.

"What I will say, though- and don't pull that face- is _yes_ , it shouldn't have happened, especially not to someone with enough medical knowledge to understand the consequences, but it _does_ happen. There's no point beating yourself up about it now."

Cal shoots her a sidewise glance as he lowers himself to the sofa. "That's the official line, is it?"

"No, of course not. The _official_ line is a complete recap on how to care for your leg."

"You've got to be kidding!"

She hands him his coffee. "We can skip that bit if you can convince me you know what you're doing."

"You actually want me to tell you?" He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Examine it every day. Wash and moisturise it every day. Clean the socket _every_ day."

"Well, you seem to have got the main point."

"I'm not an idiot," he tells her. "I know I'm meant to do it every day, it's just…" He takes a large gulp of his coffee and it burns on the way down. "- _life_ , you know. It gets in the way. Everyone else can collapse into bed at the end of a crazy night shift but I… _I_ have to spend three quarters of an hour taking care of a leg injury that wasn't even my fault." He shakes his head. "So, yeah, once or twice I didn't bother. I was too tired. And shall we consider _why_ I was tired? Because this bloody leg takes it out of me, that's why."

Fran nods. "I know. But this isn't something you can make excuses for, Cal."

"But it's not fair!" he retorts. "I just want to move on with my life. I mean, that's what everyone's telling me to do. But how is that even possible when I have to constantly check for blisters or infections?!"

"You have to find a way to work it into your routine," Fran says, gently. "Make the aftercare becomes as much a part of you as the prosthesis."

"It's so much effort." He sighs. "Everything is so much effort. _You_ said it would get easier."

She stares down at her coffee, swilling it slightly, but somehow managing to keep it all in the mug. "You put a lot of pressure on yourself," she muses. "It's been less than a year and you have achieved so much already."

"And then I blew it all."

"I thought I told you to stop beating yourself up."

He looks away, roughing his hair as an attempt to act casual. He refuses to let himself get upset in front of Fran.

"You didn't blow it," she says, quietly. "In a few weeks it'll be like this never happened."

His chest aches. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I- I thought…" he trails off, turns back to look at her, to judge the integrity in her eyes. "Fran, once I've been cleared to wear my leg again, uh, what will it be like? I mean, will I have to- to _learn_ all over again?"

"We'll arrange an appointment, okay?" she tells him. "Just so you've got the bars if you do need them but, honestly, I don't think you will. You may feel a bit shaky for a day or two but it won't be like when you first got it. You've done the hard bit already."

"Okay." He swallows. "Okay."

"You should have asked me sooner if you were worried."

Cal nods. His reply goes unsaid. He knows he doesn't need to vocalise it for it to be obvious he'd put off asking for fear of the answer. "Thanks," he mutters instead.

Fran places her empty mug on the coffee table and rummages through her handbag for her phone. "Hey, I've got a message for you from Mo. He says to tell you… hang on-" she taps at the phone screen. "-ah, yes. Tell Cal that this is not an excuse to stop doing his exercises."

"Typical Mo."

"Shush," she holds up one hand to silence him. "But," she continues reading, "to keep smiling and to remember the bigger picture." She frowns. "Does that last bit make sense to you?"

Cal considers. "In a weird way, yeah, it actually does."

"Well, I'll let you explain it to me some other time."

"What, on the next home visit? You know, I wish you'd told me you did them sooner-"

"I don't," she interrupts. "I've clocked off."

"Well, I feel privileged!"

"You're on my route home," she counters. "And some conversations are better face to face."

Cal eyes her suspiciously. Ethan's crazy notions flicker into his mind but he immediately dismisses them. He knows without doubt Fran doesn't see him that way. And to him, she feels like a big sister. He watches as she shuffles slightly and takes a deep breath, and he waits for something monumental.

"How's work?" she says instead.

"Uh," Cal raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, great now that I'm not there."

"You know what I mean. Before. How are you… finding things? You keeping up? Emergency medicine is notoriously fast paced. "

"Don't you think that's Beauchamp's job to be checking up on me?"

"I'm not checking up on you. Just asking. As a friend."

"It's fine."

"You've been there a while now, right?"

"Yeah, three years."

"Ever considered a change?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Nah," he says, "I'm good here." He doesn't elaborate but _here_ refers less to the hospital and more to his flat with Ethan that feels way more of a haven than he ever could have imagined when he instigated moving himself in years ago. "Why?"

"You know I work with University Hospital in London too, right?"

He nods.

"I was there last week," she continues, "helping to recruit for shared experience roles. You know, people who've lost limbs in the past who work with recent amputees. It got me thinking-"

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Just hear me out."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm more than a little overqualified."

"Have you ever worked in that particular area of medicine?"

"I did an orthopaedics rotation as an F1," he says, feeling slightly sulky that she's not endorsing his self-proclaimed over-qualification."

"Right, okay," she says, thoughtfully. "It's just- they're recruiting for a Registrar shortly. I thought… combine the two roles… a _doctor_ with shared experience- it could be perfect for you."

"You mean, leave Holby?"

"It's in London, yes," she says.

"But my home is here."

She nods in resignation. "Okay. I thought you might say that. But I wanted to let you know the opportunity is there and, for what it's worth, I think you'd be good at it."

Cal swills the remainder of his coffee and gulps it down in one. Now the initial shock of Fran's suggestion has passed, he can consider it more clearly. He'd always thought that the emergency department was made for him; he loved the noise, the variety, the adrenaline rush from saving someone's life, but there is no denying that it's tiring, even more so now. He would consider a change of department if it was to something where he could have equal level of significance. And he can see where she is coming from. After his accident, the doctors had been knowledgeable, but he'd never felt any of them understood him until he met Fran and Mo. He had felt like his world was falling apart and all they'd want to talk about was exercises and rigorous cleaning that seemed insignificant. In that role, he'd be able to help patients come to terms with things, to treat the mental pain as well as the physical. He'd hopefully stop them from feeling like he had.

"Should I send you the details?" Fran asks. "Just in case?"

Before he knows it, he agrees.

* * *

The trolley rattles down the corridor, alerting Ethan's attention. He reaches it at the same time as David and squeezes beside a relative to take hold of the bars and help push.

"What have we got?" he asks.

"This is Roy Ellison," Jez tells him. "53 years old. Alleged assault." Together they crash through the doors to Resus. "Injuries to his face and chest, query dislocated left shoulder, possibly kicked in the abdomen. Oh, and he's consumed around five to six pints of beer."

Ethan nods but his eyes remain on the patient. The man is bloody and clearly in pain but he's still managing to glare at Jez as if the young paramedic is reciting insults rather than basic medical facts.

"GCS of 15," Jez continues, "BP 140 over 80, pulse 88. Resps 24, sats at 98%. He's had 5mg of nebulised salbutamol with minimal effect, oxygen therapy, five of morphine and he's a known asthmatic."

"Okay, thank you," Ethan says. His mind is whirring in the familiar manner it always does when presented with a new patient; symptoms, potential complications and a plan for treatment. "Bay 3 please."

They lift Roy across and he gasps in pain, propelling alcohol scented breath towards them.

"Did that on purpose, did you," he growls at Jez.

"Least we didn't drop you," Jez says airily.

Roy's face sours and his son takes a step forwards. A look passes between him and Jez that Ethan can't quite interpret. But, aware that he's there to make people better rather to negotiate family politics, he turns back to his patient.

"Do you have any pain in your chest or abdomen?" he asks.

"At bit," Roy growls," but it's this shoulder they've really done in."

"I'm almost certain it's dislocated," Ethan tells him, "but the good news is that's easily treatable." He removes the stethoscope from around his neck and holds it against Roy's chest, listening intently. "He's got a marked respiratory wheeze," he tells David.

The nurse nods. "Pulse 100. BP 140 over 70. Resps 30 and sats 98%."

Ethan frowns at the deterioration. "Right, let's get another nebuliser and another 5mg of salbutamol. Can you order an abdominal CT, an X-Ray of his shoulder and give him some Entonox as well, please."

"Sure."

"Is- is he going to be okay?" Roy's son steps forward to ask.

David gives an encouraging smile. "He's in good hands. Now, Mickey, is it? Let's get you checked over." He looks to a nearby nurse. "Louise, would you mind?"

"I want to stay with my dad."

"He's not going anywhere," Louise tells him.

Ethan glances up to see Mickey's reaction. He'd always prefer patient relatives to keep a safe distance where possible, particularly when their hurt themselves. Yet he knows from experience that most relatives are drawn like a magnet to the Resus bed. He can still hear Lily ordering him away while she was trying to resuscitate Cal.

"I won't be long," he says to his dad as a question, seeking approval.

His dad beckons him closer. "We'll get him, don't worry," he says, his voice low and gruff but not trying to prevent Ethan from hearing, "the bloke that did this. Scott will sort him out."

At the name, Ethan freezes. It's someone that has been on his mind since he'd treated Kai and Nathan and later found out their assault had gone unpunished. Scott was the same name that Kai had heard pass from the lips of one the culprits to another and Ethan can't help the thought that rushes into his mind.

"Dad- it'll only make things worse."

"You think we should let him get away with it?" Roy scoffs. "No, you _never_ let them get away. You have to stick up for yourself. Scott understands."

Ethan frowns. He knows he shouldn't leap to conclusions but the Scott that hurt the couple had clearly been violent, and it sounds as if this one is being referred to in a similar capacity.

"You're too soft, that's the trouble," Roy continues, "you let people walk all over you."

Mickey bows his head. "I know, Dad. I'm sorry, I-"

"Right," Ethan says, surprising everyone, including himself, with his interruption. He ends the sentence the way he knows best. "Let's get this shoulder fixed, shall we?"

With a look of resignation, Mickey follows Louise towards cubicles.

"Can we get some Entonox, please, David," Ethan asks. He turns to Roy. "Okay, once you've had some more pain relief, I'll relocate the shoulder. It may feel uncomfortable and slightly sore but we'll soon have it over with."

"I find that hard to believe," Roy mutters. " _This_ is what my taxes go towards?!"

Ethan bristles. "Are there any particular concerns you wanted to raise?"

"It's not you. It's those others. That nurse that took my son. That lad from the ambulance."

Ethan hesitates. He hopes he's jumping to conclusions and that it's nothing more than coincidence that both of his colleagues who Roy listed are dark skinned. Yet neither of them did anything wrong, and that, alongside the curl of Roy's upper lip, imply otherwise.

He passes Roy the mouthpiece. "Take some deep breaths from this," he says. He waits while his patient does as he asked. "You know, my colleagues are working very hard to care for you and your family," he says, softly.

"That's what they get paid for, isn't it."

Ethan exchanges a look with David. He wishes this was a debate he could win.

"Okay, Mr Ellison." He takes his position at the side of the bed. "I'm going to slowly manipulate your shoulder by lifting your arm. Keep using the Entonox."

"I'm not a pansy. I can take the pain."

Ethan nods but he's barely got Roy's arm in the air before he returns the tube to his mouth. He rotates the limb slightly and with a crunch it returns into the socket. Roy stifles a groan.

He pinches each of Roy's fingers, glad to see the colour return just as it should. "We'll send you to X-Ray shortly just to confirm that has is in the position it should be but for now Nurse Hyde will pop that in a sling for you."

As David secures his arm, Roy reaches with his other for his phone and awkwardly manages to work it with one hand. He smiles.

"Good news?" Ethan dares ask.

Roy eyes him suspiciously but gives a gruff nod. "My eldest, Scott. He's a good lad. Chip off the old block. Not like Mickey."

"Mickey seems nice," David offers.

" _Nice_ gets people talking," Roy says. "And they ain't saying things I like to hear."

On cue, Mickey returns into the room, cut on his forehead steri-stripped and the dried blood wiped clean. "You okay, Dad?" he asks.

"Come here." Roy orders. "That's better, you're looking more like your old self." He pulls him into a lopsided hug and whispers three words that send a chill down Ethan's spine. "We got him."

Mickey pales.

"He won't do that again," Roy growls. "I told you, no-one does that to my boy."

Ethan tries to listen, to gather more evidence as to whether this Scott is the same one who committed the previous attack, but David shows him some test results he can't ignore.

"Um, right, it looks like you have a ruptured spleen," he tells Roy. "We'll book you in for interventional radiology to stop the bleeding."

"Whatever," he says, still focused on his son. "Come on, Mickey, smile, this is _good_."

"Dad, you're not well," Mickey says.

"Doesn't matter. It's just temporary, this. What matters is what's going on out there, and right now, we're in control."

Ethan leaves Roy in David's hands for regular observation while he awaits his slot in radiology. Even as he treats other patients, he can't shake his suspicions over the identity of Scott. He knows he shouldn't get involved but he also knows he would always feel guilty if he had some knowledge that could bring justice for Nathan's attack.

So when Roy is finally undergoing his procedure and Ethan finds Mickey by himself in the corridor, he joins him on the hard plastic chairs.

"Sorry my dad's a bit…" Mickey pulls a face. "He just puts the family first, that's all. Comes across a bit, well, aggressive."

Ethan can't help but think there's more to the aggression that just an appearance but he doesn't say. Instead, he clutches at Mickey's mention of family.

"Do you have a big family?"

"There's lots of auntie's and uncles and cousins," he says. "Sometimes even I forget which ones are biological and which are by name only. But really it's just the four of us. Me, my mum, dad and Scott."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, older brother."

"Ah. I'm _baby bro_ too."

Mickey nods. "It can be a bit… well, a lot to live up to, can't it? Having a big brother."

"When we were younger, certainly. Cal was always louder than me. Cooler. More popular." Ethan grins. "I was cleverer though. I had that on him."

Mickey smiles in shared understanding. "Mum always says I have the brains, Scott has the brawn." His face drops. "Thing is, Dad doesn't care much about brains or education. Says it gets you nowhere. You can't teach someone a lesson with long words."

"And what about Scott," Ethan presses. "What does he think?"

"Him and Dad… they're really close. It's always been that way. And when I was a kid he'd get Scott to, you know, rough me up a bit… to toughen me up, he always said." Mickey visibly gulps. "But then one day, Scott said he didn't want to- to mess around beating up his little brother anymore, that there were people out there who actually deserved it. And Dad, well, I thought he'd be angry that Scott had gone against him but he- he was so proud. Prouder than he's ever been of me, I think. I got an A and two B's for A-Level and all he said was _I suppose you'll expect me to shirk out for uni fees._ "

"Who are these people that Scott thinks deserve it?"

Mickey looks away. His cheeks are tinged pink. "I- I don't want to say."

"I'm not here to judge," Ethan says. It's not entirely a lie. He's not judging, just investigating, trying to determine whether his instinct that this is the same Scott who attacked Nathan and Kai is correct.

"Anyone's who's different, I guess," Mickey says, miserably. "My dad's the same. I don't like it. I don't agree with it. But they're my family; I can't cut them out just for a difference of opinion."

Ethan nods. "And then what happens?" he perseveres, "to those that _deserve it_. What does Scott do?"

Mickey looks up at him, taken aback, horror written between the slant of his brows as he realises he's said too much. "What's it to you?" he asks, sounding more like his dad than he had done the whole conversation.

"I'm sorry," Ethan says. "It's none of my business."

"No, it's not."

Ethan looks away. He wonders if he can push it, just one step further. Mickey seems like a decent person so surely he'll be just as outraged to find out his brother may be capable of serious assault. But Ethan knows brothers and even though Cal's never done anything like that, he's still forgiven him time and time again.

Mickey jumps to his feet and Ethan flinches at the sudden movement. He looks up to see Roy being pushed back into Resus and Mickey rushing to be by his side. He lets the young man go but stays seated for a moment, rubbing at his forehead. His mum always described this as his thinking headache, his brain so focused that it causes him pain. Still, he's more certain than ever that this is the Scott he's after; someone whose own brother described as thinking that anyone _different_ deserves a beating. What he needs now, is evidence.

He looks at Roy through the window to Resus. Him and Mickey are in heated debate, visibly watching the patient in the bed next to them, a man of about Mickey's age who Lily is treating for multiple wounds from an assault. A thought suddenly clicks in Ethan's brain and he realises the identity of the patient. He crashes through the door to Resus. He only realises that he has no plan when he draws to a halt nearer to Lily's patient than his own, prompting his colleague to give him a strange look. He diverts to Roy's bed just in time to hear him speak.

"You _never_ take anyone's side against the family, understood?" he growls at Mickey. "You've got a good heart but it makes you weak. People like _him_ put ideas in your head."

"I can think for myself, Dad."

"You're like the wind. One minute you're blowing this way and then that."

"I'm not like that anymore," Mickey insists and Ethan can sense this is a conversation they've had before. "I'm _not._ "

"You don't get it." Roy pushes himself upright with a groan. "I know what you are. I know what you do. I know everything about you. I've always known, since you were a kid. I spent my life trying to protect you from yourself."

"I don't need protecting."

"You're my son," Roy continues as if he hasn't heard. "and… I forgive you. You've got this weakness but we've got to work on making you strong."

Mickey doesn't reply and when Ethan looks up to see why, he's sure there are tears forming in the young man's eyes.

"I'm not weak, Dad," Mickey says, quietly but with sudden confidence in his voice. "I'm gay."

"No," Roy says. "No, I told you-" He breaks off and suddenly crumples. His head falls onto his chest and his shoulders shake in a way reminiscent of when Ethan has had to break the worst news to a patient's relative.

"Dad?" Mickey asks.

Roy lifts his head. His cheeks are red. "Get out," he snaps. His arm shoots forwards and grabs Mickey by the collar, dragging him forwards. "Stay away from us, understand? Stay away." He shoves his son as hard as he can and the action causes him to cry out in pain. "There is no place in this family for filth," he continues, through gritted teeth.

Ethan steps forwards. His own chest aches for Mickey but he still has to treat every patient regardless of their wrongdoings and he can see Roy is clearly in pain. He suspects he has redislocated the shoulder.

"Okay, I need some space," he says. He nods at a passing agency nurse, who escorts Mickey from the room.

"I can't feel my fingers," Roy says.

Ethan gently takes his arm and works his fingers up and down it. "Do you have any numbness here?" he asks. "Your elbow? Your thumb?"

"It's all pins and needles." Roy takes a shaky breath. "What's going on?"

"You've dislocated your shoulder again," Ethan explains, "but this time it is pressing on a nerve. That's what's causing the numbness." He glances at his colleague. "David, 100ml of ketamine and 10ml of saline, please. Mr Ellison, we need to reduce the dislocation immediately. I'm going to put you under a mild sedation while we carry out the procedure, okay? You'll feel a little drowsy but it'll make you much more comfortable."

Ethan administers the sedation and waits for the signs it is taking effect. With David's help he readjusts the bed so it is closer to horizontal and easier for him to complete the reduction.

"Okay, Mr Ellison," he says, out of curtesy, even though he knows it's unlikely his patient is alert enough to take in what he's saying. "We'll soon get this shoulder sorted."

He takes the arm and rotates it upwards just as he'd done earlier. As expected, it doesn't click back into place as easily this time and he has to enlist the help of David to put enough force into it. The joint realigns with a crunch.

Ethan gives a small sigh of satisfaction. "There you go, Mr El-"

The sound of an alarm brings his sentence to a halt. Ethan jumps. It was a routine procedure, not one where he'd been anticipating the wail of a monitor. He swings back to the bed. Vomit is bubbling around Mr Ellison's mouth. A horrible choking noise fills Ethan's ears. His patient is gagging. He's unable to breathe.


	28. Chapter 28

Warnings in this chapter for bad language, offensive words (it's the character, not me, promise) and terrible medical knowledge. Similar to the previous chapter, this is my version of the episode so some bits of dialogue are copied or rearranged to make sense in this context. Had to watch Reap the Whirlwind again for these two chapter... right up to the pivotal bit then I had to switch off. Still can't bare to relive Cal's death all this time later!

I hope you enjoy the update and would really appreciate it if you leave a review to let me know what you think. More soon.

 **panicpeachpit:** Thank you, that's so kind of you to say. I did steal a few bits of dialogue from the episode though but I'm glad it fitted around my own bits. Glad you relate with the medical research, it can be interesting but I do find it hard to piece together in a story. And speaking of an update from you... please? Haha. Thanks again and hope you like this chapter.

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** Thank you for reviewing, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I didn't want a quick fix with Cal as hoping that's a more realistic approach. It's not Scott who was the patient, although I'll admit I was meant to rewrite that bit to make it clearer but forgot, whoops. Hope you like this next bit too.

* * *

 **28.**

* * *

The monitor attached to Roy Ellison continues to wail.

"He's vomiting under sedation. He can't aspirate." Ethan flies into action, angles his patient's head backwards and barely glances at David as he barks instructions. "We need to protect his airway. Prep for an RSI."

"Here."

Ethan takes the laryngoscope from David. He knows he needs to act quickly. His heart is racing from the surge of adrenaline but years of experience keep his hand steady as he places the blade in his patient's mouth and shines the light down his trachea. He squints. "I can barely see anything."

"Sats are at 95% and dropping," David warns.

Ethan nods. It's more to himself than the nurse, a signal that he needs to act now, despite the compromised view. He puts more pressure on the cricoid and manages to see enough this time to give him a chance at positioning the endotracheal tube. He's about to start feeding the tube down his patient's throat when there's another gagging noise and the trachea fills with bile.

"No! He's vomited again," Ethan says. "More suction please. Now."

While his colleagues act, Ethan maintains his position, hands keeping the windpipe in the position they need it, barely daring to breathe for the fear it would disrupt the procedure. As soon as he gets the all clear, he sets to work, managing niftily to secure the tube.

"Right. Inflate the cuff… and ventilate." He waits. "Okay. Okay, good." He holds his stethoscope against Mr Ellison's chest and listens. "Bilateral air entry. Position is good."

"Sats increasing to 98%. He's stabilising," David says.

"Great. Thank you everyone."

He's still half-way through his sigh of relief when the doors to Resus clatter open. Out of the three figures he only recognises one but it's safe to assume, from the horror on their faces, that the pair with Mickey are his mum and brother. Ethan shivers. He's spent so much time speculating over the identity of 'Scott' that it feels surreal to be before the potential culprit. The man's taller than he is; slim but with a hostile posture, shoulders square, balled fists by his side, jaw grinding as he slowly surveys Resus.

But then there's a clatter of high heels against the hard floor of Resus and Ethan's attention is redirected to the woman running towards the bed. He straightens himself, preparing for the explanation he knows he must give.

"You told us it was just his shoulder!" the man, Scott, barks at his brother as they follow their mum to the bed.

"I- I thought it was," Mickey replies.

"Hello," Ethan says, largely directing it to the mother. "My name's Doctor Hardy. I'm the doctor in charge of Mr Ellison's care."

She ignores his outstretched hand. "What's happened to my husband?"

"We had to sedate him to reduce the dislocation of his shoulder," Ethan explains. "He vomited and because he was under sedation he was unable to keep his airway clear for himself. That's why we intubated. It looks worse than it is."

"He'll be okay?" Mrs Ellison asks.

"We're doing our best for him."

"So is that a yes or no?" Scott snaps.

Ethan looks at him. He's stood completely still, as if his feet were glued to the floor, yet his eyes are everywhere, glaring at Ethan and the whole of Resus as though it has done him personal harm.

"It's, um, too early to say for definite," Ethan tells him. "All indications are positive."

"Doctor, ain't ya? You're meant to make people better, right? Not wait and see."

"Scott, they're trying," Mickey interjects.

"Shut it, kid. This is all thanks to you, anyway."

Mickey's hand shakes as he runs it through his already messy hair. "What do you mean?"

"We only got involved because what that puff was saying to you."

"That's not my fault!"

Scott scoffs. "Where'd he get them ideas from, huh?"

"Boys!" Mrs Ellison interrupts. "Stop this!" Her voice echoes around Resus and then breaks. "We have to be here for your dad. Okay? I won't have this _bickering_."

Ethan expects Scott to continue regardless but instead his head falls forwards onto his chest. Finally, he moves from the spot. He stands beside his mum, puts an arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze. Ethan, watching, thinks it's as if he's morphed into a different person altogether.

"How long will these tubes have to remain in for?" Scott asks, voice softer now.

"For now they're helping him to breathe," Ethan says. "The team in ICU will review his condition."

Scott looks up but his eyes fall on the occupant on the bed next to Roy. His arm tightens around his mum and he mutters in her ear. "That's him."

She finally shifts her gaze from Roy.

"That's the prick that got dad."

"Did you do that?" she asks.

Scott nods. "Dad told me to."

Her head drops again. "Good lad."

"I would have done it anyway. Should have seen him at the boozer. Parading around like he had nothing to be ashamed of." He smirks. "Had it coming. Ain't that right, Mickey? No-one lays a hand on our dad, especially not someone like him."

"Scott, please, keep your voice down," Mickey says.

"Look at you," Scott says. He reaches across the bed and roughly grabs his brother's chin to lift his head. "Always fretting over summit. It's fine, they can't pin anything on me, proved that time and again. Unless…" he pauses. "You're feeling sorry for that puff I gave a kicking. I know you. Wandering loyalties, is that it?"

"No." Mickey jerks out of his brother's grasp. "I just- you don't need to gloat about it, that's all."

Scott snorts. "Is it damaging your precious ears? You know, Dad was right about you."

"What did he say?" Mickey looks up, eyes defensive, and Ethan knows he's thinking about the last conversation with his dad.

"That you're soft."

"That's not true," Mickey mumbles.

"Is alright. That's what guys like _him_ think. That's why we had to-"

Scott is cut off by the sound of an alarm.

Ethan spins back to the bed. He can sense the three relatives move closer, can feel their panic even before Mrs Ellison begins to scream her husband's name. He lets someone else calm her. He's too busy reading the monitor and trying to establish why Mr Ellison's pulse is racing.

"What's going on?" Scott demands.

Ethan ignores him in favour of checking the endotracheal tube. Everything is in positioned and working as it should be. In usual circumstances, that would be a positive, but now it complicates things by confirming there's something else behind his condition.

"Has your husband ever complained of any chest pain?" he asks, speculatively.

"No. Apart from indigestion," she says. "Hang on, are you saying it's his _heart_ now?"

"He doesn't know, Mum, does he?" Scott interjects. "Doesn't know fucking anything."

Ethan holds his stethoscope against Roy's chest and listens. "Pulse is faint as well as elevated."

"BP remains at 140 over 70," David replies.

"Right." Ethan returns his stethoscope to around his neck but frowns. "David, can you order a twelve lead ECG."

"Hello!" Scott says. "Are you going to talk to us?"

"Full blood count?" David asks.

"Yes, yes please."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan sees Scott step back, his hands on his head.

"Fucks sake!" he explodes. "This is just rude, man."

Ethan opens his mouth to apologise but David gets there before him.

"Sorry, we've been busy trying to save your dad's life."

"You what?"

David stands firm.

"Scott, don't," Mickey says, although Ethan suspects none of them know exactly what that _don't_ refers to.

"Nah, I'm not gonna let some _freak_ stand here and tell us Dad's going to die."

"I, er, actually, I- I said-"

"Look," Ethan interrupts. He makes sure he checks on the monitors that Roy's condition hasn't deteriorated. "We're doing our best for your father," he glances at Mrs Ellison, "your husband. Okay? But it's imperative we have calm conditions that allow us to do our job."

"But you're not doing your job, are you? You've not fixed him!"

"We're doing our best," Ethan repeats.

"Yeah, well, if anything happens to him," Scott continues. He steps forwards and slowly moves his glare from Ethan to David and back again.

"That ECG please, David," Ethan says, not taking his own eyes off Scott. He suppresses a shudder. There's a darkness in Scott's eyes that gives him the uncomfortable impression that the young man is already planning his exact revenge. "Okay, if you wish to remain in here, you need to give me the space and peace to get on with my job."

"Who do you think you are to set us rules?!"

Ethan takes a deep breath. "I'm the doctor in charge."

"Scott, come on," Mickey says, "let's just wait outside."

"No. No, I'm staying. Someone's got to make sure _he_ doesn't screw up."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Mrs Ellison screeches, "Scott, let him work. And _you_ , Doctor, please get on with it."

Ethan turns back to his patient, his head humming with a mix of indignation and relief. David returns with the ECG machine and so he focuses his attention on attaching the leads to Roy's chest. They barely have the readings through, when the monitor starts to wail again.

Ethan glances at the results. "Right, he's having an AMI. We need to get him to the cath lab. Can we also get an NG tube in and 300mg of soluble aspirin."

"What's happening now?"

Ethan glances over his shoulder at Scott. "Your father is experiencing an acute myocardial infarction," he says.

"A what?"

"His heart muscle isn't working as it should be. This could be due to a number of things. As soon as he's stable enough I'm going to send him for some tests to work out why."

Mrs Ellison clasps her hand over her mouth. "You _are_ saying this is his heart, aren't you? Is this a heart attack?"

Ethan administers the drug before replying. "Um, I'm afraid it does appear-"

"Hang on," Scott interrupts. "He's come in a here with a busted shoulder and you've given him a heart attack! What kind of crap doctor does that?"

"Scott, you can't just _give_ someone a heart attack, it doesn't work like that," Mickey says in the background.

"I want another doctor," Scott says.

Ethan checks the monitor. "There really isn't time for that." He reaches for the IV stand and gently puts pressure on the bag, speeding the time it takes to get the fluids into Roy. "I need you to leave. All of you."

"Weren't you listening? We're going nowhere."

"Okay, security," Ethan calls. "Please escort the Ellison's to the relative's room."

"You can't do this!"

"I can," Ethan says, glad his voice sounds firmer than he feels. "I will inform you as soon as I have an update."

He winces at the sound of Scott swearing but a glance at David, and a brief nod from the nurse, confirms he did the right thing.

"Pulse still at 140," David tells him.

"Yeah." Ethan groans. The medication should have kicked in by now. The sudden sound of another alarm rattles through his bones. "Uh, no, he's in VF." His own heart hammers in his throat. "Okay, let's get him flat. Start compressions."

He prepares the defibrillator with shaking hands. He's never prepared to lose a patient but some come as less of a shock; this is someone who has deteriorated unusually fast and without a known pre-existing condition.

"Charging at 150," he says. "All clear." He places the paddles on Roy's chest. "Shocking." His body jerks. Ethan holds his breath as he watches the monitor. "No change. Okay, 1mg of adrenaline please, and another round of compressions."

As he waits, he thinks of the relatives. He knows that it was fear that fuelled their accusations and imagines them, waiting anxiously in the relatives room. It had been his decision to banish them from Resus, his confidence that they wouldn't be missing anything while they were there. He can't let them down. He can't prove Scott right.

"Charging again," Ethan says. "All clear. Okay, shocking." Again, he stares desperately at the monitor. His chest falls. "And again. Charging at 180 this time. All clear!" He's aware his volume is loud, louder than it should be. "Shocking."

Mr Ellison's body falls back onto the bed. There are no signs of change.

"Still asystole," David says. He looks at Ethan expectantly.

He knows what the nurse is asking but he can't comply. "Another round of compressions, please, David," he says instead.

As David follows his instructions, Ethan recalls everything that has happened over the course of Mr Ellison's treatment. He knows he's performed every procedure correctly but there could be something, however minor, which acts as a clue to his current state. But he knows, if there's an underlying condition at the root, it could be something no-one was able to predict.

"I'm going to charge again," Ethan announces. "180. Okay, stand clear." His colleagues seem to move in slow motion as they step back from the bed. "And shocking." He waits. His brows knot together. The monitor blurs. Nothing.

"Doctor Hardy?"

"Right, let's…" he freezes. He knows there's no point shocking again. They've done all they can. "Right." He starts again. "He hasn't responded to CPR, adrenaline nor amiodarone," he says, testing the water. Scott's face glowers in his mind. It doesn't change anything. It can't. "Okay, I'm going to call it. Are we all agreed?" He waits, expecting the family to burst in, objecting. His colleagues all nod. "Time of death 17:36." He shudders.

They pause, as they always do, with respect for the deceased. Ethan knows they all have the same purpose, to preserve life, and whenever that fails, whatever has come before the time of death is no longer relevant. Nothing makes losing patients any easier.

"Someone needs to tell the family," David says.

"I'll do it," Ethan replies.

He doesn't want to do it. He never wants to break terrible news to relatives and witness the moments their faces crumble and their hearts shatter. He _especially_ doesn't want to do it in these circumstances, when he already knows from the outbursts in Resus that there is the potential for conflict. But the thing he wants least of all is to inflict that responsibility on a colleague. It's his job. He'll do it and he'll let them shout at him if that's what will help them, because he knows how painful it is to lose someone close.

He pauses on the way to the relative's room for a drink of water and gulps it so fast that a trickle runs onto his chin. He wipes it away with a shaking hand. He tells himself that it's ridiculous to feel intimidated by Scott when he knows he provided exemplary care for his father and could back that up with evidence if Scott did decide to blame him. He reminds himself that even if he is correct about the attack on Nathan and Kai, Scott's not going to lash out in a safe place like a hospital.

Delaying just for a second longer, Ethan tugs at the bottom of his tunic. He hadn't had time to iron it this morning which was a rarity but made him a hypocrite considering how often he'd criticised Cal for doing the same. Somehow the scruffiness makes him feel less of a doctor and he wildly considers finding an iron before going to the Ellison's, a smart uniform giving him stature. He shrugs the idea away as ridiculous. Nothing can make this easier.

The door to the relatives room is shut, the window so small that from the angle he's at, he cannot see anything through it other than the wall opposite, the one with a mural painted as a project by a local youth group. The picture of a lopsided bear has always bothered him. It cannot ease grief nor lesson fear. He takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and pushes the door open. The room is empty.

He does a double take and then spins on the spot, squinting across the E.D. as if the Ellison's were likely to be found at the nurse's station or helping Noel at the front desk.

"Louise," he says, as the nurse passes. "Sorry, um, do you know the whereabouts of the family that were waiting in here."

She looks at him blankly. "Room's been empty for the last few hours as far as I know."

"Right." He rubs at his head. His nerves are far from eased.

"Ethan!"

He turns to see Alicia heading towards him. For once, he cannot return her grin.

"What's wrong?" she asks. "Is it Cal?"

"Oh. No, no," he replies. "He's fine now. Well, he will be as soon as the amoxicillin does its job. No, it's, um, I lost a patient."

She takes his hand and squeezes it. "Poor you. A tough one?"

"Underlying heart condition, I suspect." He can't look at her, too busy searching the E.D. with his eyes. "I need to break it to the relatives. I thought they were in here, but…"

"Perhaps they've popped out for a cigarette?"

"Ah, good thinking." He takes a step in the direction of the exit.

"Ethan," she says. "You can't tell them something like that in a public area. Wait for them to come back. It won't be long I'm sure."

His head falls. "I know, you're right. It's just-" He considers sharing his concerns about Scott but then thinks better of it. "No, it's fine, I'll wait. I'll have to."

"Good, then come here," she says. "I have five minutes left on my break."

He lets her lead him into the linen cupboard. The door is barely shut before she pulls him into a hug. He drops his head onto her shoulders and hugs back. Her body is warm against his and can smell the fragrant notes of her perfume. It relaxes him and he finally stops feeling like the floor is about to disappear from beneath him.

"Better?" she asks softly.

"Yeah. How did you know I needed that?"

"Perceptive," she says. "When it comes to you, anyway. Sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Yes I am. Thank you."

She smiles. "Hey, how about we get a drink later? It's been a while since we had some time to ourselves."

"Sound lovely."

Her hand reaches for his cheek and she brings them back together in a kiss. "You know," she says. "I've heard all sorts of rumours about what people get up to in here."

"Yeah, um, I think my brother's largely responsible for that."

"Well, that killed the mood!"

Ethan grimaces. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Oh, well, you can make it up to me later," she says. "And Ethan? You've got this, okay?"

* * *

There's screaming coming from somewhere. Ethan knows who it is without having to look. Her high pitched cry of _no-no-no_ soon transcends into a series of loud sobs that make Ethan's heart ache. But then there's another voice, male this time, and four words that send a shiver down his spine.

"Right. Where is he?"

Ethan turns in time to see Scott striding towards him, cheeks pale, jaw set square. Behind him, Mrs Ellison rubs at her eyes and streaks mascara underneath. Mickey stands back, shaken, the door of Resus still clattering in their wake.

Ethan suddenly releases. They've been there. They've seen him, found the news of his death in the worst possible way.

"You didn't even have the bottle to tell us yourself!" Scott yells.

"I'm sorry-" Ethan starts.

"We found him lying in there, tubes sticking out of him-"

"I- I came to the relatives room. You weren't there."

"So this is our fault, is it?" Scott spits.

"No! No, of course not," Ethan replies. He'd never intended to blame them, only wanted to explain what happened, why he'd not been able to tell them the way he would have preferred. "We did everything we could to save your father but his injuries were too severe." He takes a deep breath. "I am truly sorry you found out that way. May- may I offer my sincere condolences."

Scott launches himself at him. Ethan stumbles backwards but somehow regains his balance. He gets a glimpse of Scott's fist. It's clenched and the knuckles are bruised, an indication of an earlier fight.

"I don't want your condolences." It's Mrs Ellison this time, having worked her way in front of her son. Her eyes are bloodshot but filled with the same fire as Scott's. "I want to know exactly what happened to my Roy. Someone's responsible and I want to know who!"

Ethan nods. If they want to pursue the matter, they can follow the appropriate channels. He may be guilty when it comes to unprofessional ways to break bad news but he knows that his medical treatment was exemplary.

"We know who, Mum," Scott says. "And they'll get what's coming to them."

* * *

"Ethan!" Alicia says.

He blinks back into the room. "Sorry."

He knows his attention has been flittering all night and he can't blame her if she's starting to get irritated with him. His mind refuses to stay with her in the pub, and keeps drifting back to the hospital, to his day in Resus and in the corridor as the Ellison's unleashed their grief on him. He's been threatened before by patients and nothing more has ever come of it than a fist once missing his glasses by mere millimetres. He knows it is just Scott's way of grieving. But that doesn't explain the unease in the pit of his stomach.

"You're doing it again," she says.

"I know." He rubs at his temple. "It's just-"

"Do you want to go?"

"I, um."

"We can go." She tips the rest of her wine into her mouth and stands, grabbing her leather jacket from the back of her chair. "Come on, get up."

"No," he says, softly. "No, I want to stay. I want to spend the evening here, with you."

She raises her eyebrows. "Yeah, you're doing a good impression of it."

"Sorry," he says again. "Can you sit down? Please."

"Ethan, talk to me," she says. She takes her seat but perches at the end of it, and leans across the table on her elbows. "I wasn't going to bring it up unless you did but I- I heard something earlier. Something Louise said about relatives that throwing accusations at you. Some threats?"

"Oh. It was nothing," he says. "You know, grief stricken. It's understandable really."

"Not when you're this upset about it."

"I'm not upset."

"Where are your glasses?"

"Hmm?" The abrupt change in conversation throws him and he looks her directly in the eye as he frowns. "In my briefcase. Why, what's that-?"

"You never wear your glasses when you're upset," she remarks. "Or when you're really happy. Or when we're about to, _you know_ , except I don't think it's either of those last two things right now." She reaches across the table and helps herself to his largely undrunk glass of wine. "Are you drinking this? No? Good."

He sighs, remembering their conversation earlier. "You _are_ perceptive," he says.

"Told you." She manages a half-smile.

"I can't get it out of my head," he admits. "I don't know why."

"Not doubting yourself, are you?"

"No," he says. "No, I'm certain I did everything I could."

"I know you, Ethan, you never call it unless there is no hope. You're a good doctor."

"Thank you." He frowns. "I'm sorry this isn't the evening you had planned."

"There'll be others," she says. She takes a sip of his wine. "Look, Louise and Robyn are over there at the bar. If you want to go, I won't be offended. I'm overdue some girl time too."

He hesitates. He wants to be the boyfriend he deserves but he knows the only thing that can cure his despondency is a good night's sleep. "Are you sure?"

"It's fine."

"Okay." He leans across the table and presses his lips gently against hers. "You really are wonderful, you know."

"Well come here and tell me that."

He chuckles slightly despite his mood and does as she asks, moving round to her side of the table and scooting onto the edge of her seat. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her more firmly this time, letting their lips move against each other.

"I'll make it up to you," he says. "I will. But you have a good night, okay? Text me when you're home, however late."

"I will."

Outside, the night air envelopes him. It's beginning to rain. He pulls his coat tighter around him and keeps his head down; it's not a long walk home from that pub, he can do it in ten minutes if he's fast enough. He suspects Cal will be in bed by now, the infection still taking it out of him. If he's right, it'll give Ethan the chance to do the same.

He hears footsteps behind him and whisks around. A middle aged man with an umbrella looks startled. Ethan turns back around and shakes his head. He's obviously more rattled from his interaction with Scott than he first thought.

"Had a good evening, have ya?"

This time Ethan knows it's not just paranoia. He glances over his shoulder and sees Scott, damp from the rain, eyes glowing with hatred even in the dimly lit street.

"Who was that you were with just now?" Scott continues. "She your girlfriend?"

Ethan stays silent.

"She's out of your league."

He doesn't rise to it, just carries on walking. He tells himself all he has to do is keep going, to walk a little faster, Scott will soon get bored.

"You not gonna talk to me? Look, all I want is an apology and I'll go."

Ethan's pace slows. He doesn't want Scott to follow him the whole way back to his flat. The thought of the man knowing his address makes him uneasy. Besides, he doesn't want to involve Cal.

He stops. He turns to look at Scott. "I'm sorry."

"So you're admitting you made a mistake?"

"No." Ethan says. "I mean I'm sorry for your loss. I- I nearly lost my brother not long ago and that was similarly sudden-"

Scott exhales so heavily that Ethan can feel his breath hot against his face. "Nearly?"

"-and I know how it feels to lose a parent."

"Look, we ain't the same. I don't give a shit who you've lost or _nearly_ lost. Truth is, you were meant to help my dad and you didn't."

"I- I did all I could. I promise you that." Ethan can hear the tremor in his own voice and knows it will be a miracle if Scott hasn't picked up on that. "He- he was too unwell. I can explain in more detail if that will help? I-"

"Shut up," Scott hisses. "There ain't nothing you can do that's gonna bring him back, is there?" He moves closer, shoves his face into Ethan's. "Say it. Is there?"

"No," Ethan says, barely a whisper. "No, there's not."

"Didn't you like him?"

"I… It wouldn't make a difference either way. I treat all my patients equally."

"So you didn't like him?" Scott asks. "Not everyone's cup of tea, my old man. You know what, though? I loved him more than anyone else in the world."

"Of- of course you-"

"And you took him away from me."

Ethan's chest is tight. He can feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. Scott's so close he wonders if he can feel it too.

"Please," Ethan says.

Scott's lip curls. "You're going to beg?"

Desperately, Ethan looks both ways down the street. He squints, trying to conjure up an approaching stranger who can alert the authorities. "This isn't the way to go about things," Ethan says. "Make a complaint if you see fit, but-"

"No, we're doing it how _my_ way now." He shoves Ethan in the chest.

Ethan gulps. He doesn't want to fight. He's acutely aware that his only experience, throwing weak punches at Cal, makes him far from an equal match against somebody like Scott. But if that's what Scott intends to do, he's going to have to try to defend himself. He clenches his fist. It closes on air. His briefcase, he realises, is back at the pub. That somehow feels less equipped than ever.

Scott pushes him again, harder this time and Ethan stumbles backwards, his outstretched arm grazing the nearby fence. He rights himself just in time to see Scott coming at him again. Ethan braces himself, squares his chest and aims a fist towards Scott. Mid-air, something clamps down on his arm, preventing it from reaching its target.

Scott smirks. "Brought some friends along, don't mind, do ya?"

Ethan takes a frantic glance over his shoulder. Three figures are appearing from the darkness, out of a small alleyway he hadn't even known existed. His stomach lurches. His windpipe tightens. He'd thought he would struggle against Scott, but he stood no chance with four against one. Barely thinking, he takes off but runs straight into the path of Scott. He feels his arms grabbed from behind. A fist collides with his cheekbone. His ears ring. Someone pushes him down and he battles to get up, a tangle of arms and legs and he's sure, from the grunt he hears, that his foot made successful contact with someone's stomach.

But revenge comes quickly. A heavy blow winds him and as he's left on his back, gasping desperately for air, Scott's face hovers above him. Hot fingers grasp at Ethan's forehead and slam his head backwards into the ground. Pain shoots through his skull. His vision blurs.

"Tell anyone," Scott says. "And we'll find that girlfriend of yours, or that brother you _nearly lost_. See how you like it when someone you love gets taken from you. Understood?"

Ethan blinks furiously, batting the rain out of his eyes and when his sight returns, Scott's still there.

"Understood?"

Perhaps it's the way his heart is thudding so loudly he can't think straight. Perhaps it's because he's certain now, it was this man, this Scott, who hurt his patients. Maybe it's because he knows what his brother would do. But Ethan's survival instinct fails and rather than blindly agreeing with Scott, he forces himself into a sitting position and swings his clenched fist towards his assailant. The pain in his knuckles confirms the hit and, when he dares open his eyes, he can see blood pooling from Scott's nose.

"Right." The other man says. "Get him."


	29. Chapter 29

Thank you everyone for the feedback, I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this chapter, my version of the Reap the Whirlwind aftermath. Please let me know what you think.

 **casfics:** Glad to have surprised you and glad you liked the mix in that chapter. Hope you enjoy this too as it's a similar mix. Thank you so much for reviewing.

 **LovingRandom140:** Thank you so much for reviewing. It's such a relief to know my dodgy medical paragraphs don't ruin the whole thing. I do always do a bit of research but I could do with a medical advisor like they have on the show sat by me while I write haha. Thanks again.

 **Guest:** Thank you so much, that's exactly what I was aiming for with the tension building throughout. Oh yes I definitely live in a world where Cal is alive, I'm glad I'm not the only one still sad about it. Hope you enjoy the update.

 **panicpeachpit:** Thank you - I know there was a few inaccuracies but I'm relieved they weren't too evident. Thank you so much for your comments on the action scene, I find those bits so fun to write (I wonder what that says about me lol) so I'm glad they read well too. Hope this part answers a few of your questions.

* * *

 **29.**

* * *

"It's okay. You're going to be okay."

The voice echoes in his head, adds to the pain. He groans. His lips feel thick. His face feels damp. It was raining earlier; stopped now. Is this water, or- or blood?

"Ethan, can you hear me?"

He huffs. He wants silence. He wishes he could sleep. He needs that pain-free oblivion again. Yet, he's dizzy, his head hurts. Everything hurts. How is he meant to sleep through that?

"I'm calling an ambulance, okay? It won't be long."

No. No, he doesn't want that. He forces his eyes open. Everything remains black. Unless? He's face down on the floor. There's gravel in his cheek. He rolls. It takes all his strength but he manages it. Onto his back. There's a streetlight somewhere and it burns his eyes. He blinks and when he opens them again, there's something else above him. Alicia.

"Don't try and move. You're hurt."

"No."

"Please, Ethan, just stay still."

"No. No ambulance," he manages. Even his throat hurts.

"Yeah, we need to get you to hospital. Get you checked over, alright."

He remembers enough. He can still hear those words, spat at him, angry but convincing. If he tells anyone what happened, Alicia's in danger. Or Cal. How stupid he'd been, volunteering the information that he has a brother. He can't allow either of them to get hurt.

"Home. Please."

"Ethan," she says. It sounds like she's crying. He wonders how bad he must look. "Ethan, that's not a good idea."

"Not- not going." He struggles into a sitting position. He can see her clearer now, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, so pale he could count her freckles if he were feeling well enough. "I'm fine. Promise."

"You're not _fine_." She scoots closer and lets him lean upon her.

"For me. Please," he mutters into her shoulder. He supposes he's smearing blood onto her jacket. He'll buy her a new one if she needs it. "Just- home."

* * *

Cal wakes to the sound of someone calling his name. He sits up in bed and wipes a hand over his bleary eyes. The room's still dark. The night is yet to fade.

"Cal! Cal, you better be decent because I'm coming in."

He doesn't have time to react before his bedroom door burst open and Alicia half falls into the room, heavily panting, cheeks damp with tears.

"Wh-?" he says.

"It's Ethan. He needs you."

His heart clenches. "Is he?" He pulls a t-shirt over his head. "Alicia, what's going on?"

"Just hurry up." She holds his crutches out to him expectantly.

He follows her through to the lounge, keeping up with her step by step, far faster than he should attempt. On the sofa, his little brother is sprawled against the cushions, bloody and swollen, one hand clutching his side, the other dabbing at his lip with a blood soaked tissue.

"Ethan," Cal breathes. He drops onto the sofa next to him. "Ethan, what happened? Are you okay?" He doesn't give anyone the chance to reply before turning to Alicia and glaring at her. "Why isn't he in hospital?"

She takes a shaky breath. "He didn't want to go."

"Look at him! He shouldn't have been given the choice!"

"We can treat him here," she says and he can hear the desperation in her voice. "Between us, okay?"

Cal's head's drawn back to his brother. Ethan's a mess; chillingly pale beneath the blood and the bruising that's coming through already, shivering, folded in on himself, refusing to look at either of them. Cal's chest pangs. He wants to grab hold of his brother, squeeze him tight then shake some sense into him, make him see that he needs proper treatment, not from two off-duty doctors without equipment in a far from sterile flat.

"Shall I get the first aid kit?" Alicia continues, tearfully. "You- you have one right?"

"Yeah, uh-" Cal's head is swimming and he struggles to get the words out. "The bathroom, I think. There's- there's some bandages and stuff in my room."

It hurts to look at Ethan, especially in the silence once Alicia's gone. Cal can't understand who could have beaten his gentle brother so badly. He feels the rage growing in him, a heat that squares his shoulders and makes his eyes sting with tears. No-one had the right to do this, to turn his little brother into bloody, quivering mess.

"Who did this?" he demands.

Ethan doesn't reply.

"Ethan, who hurt you?"

"No-one," Ethan says, without looking at him, his voice a tiny whisper that somehow fills the room. "A mugger. I don't know."

"A mugger?" Alicia echoes as she returns to the room. "What did he try to take? You left your briefcase in the pub, remember? That's why I came after you." She dumps a pile of dressings and wipes on the sofa next to Cal and they exchange a look of concern.

"What aren't you telling us, bro?"

Ethan's head sinks further into his chest. "Leave it."

"No! No, I'm not leaving it." Cal knows he shouldn't be shouting, but he can't seem to control it. "Not when you're sat here looking like _that_. I need to know who did this so I can go and rip him to pieces."

"Cal, this isn't helping," Alicia says, softly.

"And you believe him, do you?"

"I _believe_ this isn't the time or place." She lays a hand on his arm and Cal does his best not to shake her off. "Let's get him cleaned up first, okay? Wipe some of this blood away so we can see what we're dealing with. Ethan, is that alright?"

Ethan twitches in a way that could just about be considered a nod.

Cal purses his lips. He doesn't like being told what to do at the best of times, appreciates Alicia's insinuation that she knows what's best for his brother better than he does, even less. It's especially frustrating that she has a point. His gaze is locked on Ethan and as his eyes run from the congealed blood in his hair, to his swollen eye and bloody lip, to the way he's clutching at his side, he knows she's right. He deflates and lets out a defeated sigh.

"It's hard to carry," he says, indicating his crutches. "Can you get the stuff? A bowl of warm water and some sponges, yeah? There are some under the kitchen sink."

She wipes a hand across her eyes. "Of course."

He watches her go, using the time to take a few deep breaths to expel the remaining rage. When he's ready, he turns back to his brother. He stifles a jump. Ethan's looking at him finally, through the one eye that isn't pummelled shut.

"Cal," Ethan says and it's broken and helpless.

"It's okay," he tells him, "I've got you now, it's okay."

Barely thinking, he grabs his brother's hand and clasps it in his. Ethan winces and Cal looks down at their hands to see cuts across his brother's knuckles. His stomach churns.

"You tried to fight back?"

Ethan, opting not to reply, pulls his hand back. Cal's fingers follow the movement and he settles for grasping his brother's wrist.

"Hey," he says, but gently, "if we're doing this your way, if we're staying here, not going to hospital, then you have to let me see, okay?"

Ethan relents, letting Cal take the weight of his hand.

"Can you wriggle your fingers?"

Ethan demonstrates. "S'not broken. Nothing is."

 _Except you_ , Cal thinks. He gulps and hopes he manages to keep the thought from landing on his face. "Let us be the judge of that."

Alicia returns, wobbling a washing-up bowl full of water. She lowers it to the floor and frees the packet of sponges from under her arm.

"Time to get you sorted, yeah?" she says. Her voice is still shaky and Cal suspects she's used her time away from Ethan to shed a few tears. "I'm just going to- to take your coat off, okay, to start with. It's soaking anyway."

Cal frowns. "How long were you out in the rain?"

"Don't know," Ethan whispers.

"You don't know? So you were knocked out then. For a while?" he starts to feel the panic rising in his throat again at the thought his brother might have a head injury.

"I was in the pub about half an hour after Ethan left," Alicia tells him as she feeds Ethan's arm out of his coat sleeve. "He was coming round as I found him."

"I- I think I just passed out." Ethan's voice is thick. "Not knocked out. Don't worry."

"Don't worry? Eth-" Cal shakes his head. He forces himself to stay calm for his brother's sake. "Ethan, you need a head CT, buddy. Come on, I'll phone us a taxi."

"Caleb, I- I said _no_." Ethan seems to grow paler and Cal can hear his breath hitching in his throat. "I'm not- not…"

"Take a deep breath," Alicia says. She presses her fingers against the pulse point in his neck. "And another, okay?" She glares at Cal over her shoulder. "He can't get worked up."

He runs a hand over his head and watches from the side-lines as Alicia discards Ethan's coat on the floor. With a sinking heart, he realises there's blood on Ethan's shirt. He holds his breath as Alicia undoes the buttons. Her fingers are shaky and she struggles at first but Cal suspects she's as anxious as he is to inspect the damage. There's mottled bruising across Ethan's chest and abdomen. Cal frowns and shuffles closer. His brother's lips are tightly pressed together, his forehead is creased and Cal can tell he's close to freaking out. Ethan may be a master of self-control but Cal knows there's only so long he can hold himself together for, and that the next bit needs to be done quickly.

He helps himself to a damp sponge and tentatively presses it against Ethan's forehead, where blood mingles with his blonde hair. Ethan gasps. It takes all of Cal's willpower not to pull away and stop inflicting that pain. Instead, he places his other hand gently on the side of Ethan's head and strokes his brother's hair as he wipes the blood. The wound reopens as he wipes it and he tapes a bandage on to keep the blood from spilling down Ethan's face as he cleans away the rest.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Alicia kneeling upright as she work on a bloody patch on Ethan's stomach. He stops what he's doing for a moment and cranes to see. Beneath the stain of blood, there's already mottled bruising. Without asking Alicia to move, he goes to examine the injury, dreading the signs of internal bleeding. He presses on Ethan's abdomen and his brother hisses.

"Ow, Cal, don't."

"Just checking." He glances at Alicia. "There's no obvious swelling or rigidity." He feels around the area again but Ethan's hand, the one that isn't grazed, grasps at his wrist, stalling him.

"Maybe I- I should just- have- shower," he stammers.

"Don't be silly," Alicia replies, managing to say it much gently than Cal would have had he got there first. "We need to make sure you're okay." She stretches for Ethan's discarded briefcase and retrieves Ethan's stethoscope.

Cal reaches across and snatches it off her before she has chance to put it to her ears. He's mocked Ethan so many times for being surgically attached to that stethoscope but now he's glad his brother has it with him at all times. He finally has a proper piece of kit to examine Ethan with rather than best judgment and the scraps of bandages left from his own injury.

He positions it over Ethan's heart first and holds his own breath as he listens, counting the beat and only releasing a sigh of relief when he's certain the pulse is regular.

"Well?" Alicia asks brusquely, and it occurs to him for the first time that he was a little rude grabbing the stethoscope out of her hands.

"Yeah, fine. Want to listen?"

She nods. She listens to the steady beat of his brother's heart and finally allows a thin lipped smile. She traces the stethoscope across Ethan's chest to his lungs and her smile fades.

"What is it?" Cal asks.

"He's just a little wheezy. Here." She hands the equipment back to him.

"Ethan, can you sit up a bit?" He puts a hand on his brother's bare shoulder and helps him move into a more upright posture. He listens carefully, first on his chest and then on his back. Alicia was right, there is wheezing, albeit minor.

"You hear it too?" she asks.

"Yeah. I think his ribs are broken. We'll have to monitor, take him in if it gets any worse. We can't handle a pneumothorax here."

"Won't come to that." Ethan lowers himself back against the sofa cushions, groaning.

"You can't know that for sure, bro. If that gets worse I'm calling an ambulance, I don't care what you say."

"No, you-"

"Cal's right," Alicia interrupts. "Come on, what would you tell a patient who had these injuries, eh?"

Cal can see Ethan's forehead creasing as he battles with himself over the answer he knows is true and the one he wants to give. It seems he settles for silence, staring down at his closed hands in his lap, one finger moving to smear the blood from his knuckles further across the skin. Cal wants to stop him, his brother is covered in enough blood as it is, but he recognises the nerves and anxiety behind the action and leaves Ethan to it.

Alicia wordlessly hands him back his sponge and they continue their work, cleaning Ethan of as much blood and dirt as they can. Cal can't decide whether it makes his brother look better or worse. His injuries stand out more now without all the excess blood, his bruised forehead and swollen eye, split lip and grazed cheek, the mottled purple around his ribs and stomach. Cal scowls. It's not his best bedside manner but he can't hide his own pain at seeing his little brother like this. It shouldn't feel as bad as after the crash because Ethan's not critical now but that gives him more time to think, to digest the damage, to witness the trembling of his brother's chin as he fights to hold it together.

He lets Alicia focus on steri-stripping the wider cuts to balance precariously on the back of the sofa, examining a cut on the back of Ethan's head. It doesn't seem severe but he knows that's another thing he needs to keep an eye on, to watch for any signs of head injury. He makes a note not to let his brother out of his sight for the next few days.

They don't speak as they work but the room is far from silent; Alicia incoherently murmuring as she talks herself through her treatment, Cal tutting, sighing as he finds another wound inflicted on his brother, Ethan sniffing and failing to stifle groans as one of them presses somewhere it hurts. And when a burst of noise comes from outside, a taxi of revellers pulling up, Ethan takes a sharp intake of breath and Cal thinks he can almost hear his brother's heart hammering against his chest.

"It's okay," he says, "just some drunk idiots."

Cal half expects his brother to remind him he's been one of those drunk idiots more times than anyone could count. It makes him feels worse when he doesn't.

"How are you feeling, babe?" Alicia asks.

Ethan raises his eyebrow. It looks like it hurts. "Um, fine."

"Liar."

"A bit… sore."

"I have some leftover codeine tablets somewhere," Cal suggests.

"No, no," Ethan says, "they have to be prescribed by a doctor."

Cal shrugs. "I'm a doctor. I'm prescribing them."

"Just some paracetamol. Please."

Alicia grabs her handbag and rummages through it. "Here you go. I'll get you a glass of water, hang on."

Cal waits for her to reach the kitchen before turning to face his brother. He swears the bruising around Ethan's cheek has got worse already. "Who was it, Ethan?" he asks again, quietly this time.

It's no surprise when Ethan chooses not to answer.

"You can trust me, you know. I didn't mean it when I said I'd hurt him back."

"I know." Ethan's eyelashes flutter shut. "And I'm… grateful that you care enough to say it."

Cal fights with himself and wins the battle against insisting Ethan tells him. "You should rest," he says instead. He waits for Alicia to hand him the water. "Here, take these painkillers and then it's time for bed. No arguments. Alicia, I'll call you a taxi."

"I can stay," she says. "I want to help."

She looks as if she's about to cry again. Cal knows he's being selfish but he can't help it, he doesn't want anyone getting in the way of him looking after his brother and he knows, if she stays, she'll expect to be in Ethan's room like usual. He's just relying on Ethan being too weary to intervene.

"No, it's fine."

"Cal, I-"

"Listen, thank you for getting my brother home to me," he says, "but I can look after him now."

She rubs at one eye, glares at him through the other. "You don't need to call me a taxi. I can manage to book one myself."

But when she's gone, Cal almost regrets it. He looks at Ethan, heavy on the sofa, head bobbing with exhaustion, and wonders how he's supposed to get him up. If he wasn't on crutches he'd be much better equipped to support his brother's weight.

"Can you walk?" he asks his brother.

"Yes," Ethan replies but he doesn't sound convincing.

Cal stands but he only leans on one crutch and lets the other hang from his outstretched arm. "Come on, I'll pull you up."

Ethan takes his hand but Cal feels hardly any force on it and suspects his brother is deliberately going easy on him. He huffs. He hates it when his leg leaves him feeling useless like this. He stays behind Ethan so that even though he can't help him, he can still watch for any signs he's struggling and prepare to try to catch him should he need to. Ethan walks slowly and stiffly, one hand holding his stomach, the other trailing along the wall, breathing deeply but only gasping in pain once or twice.

Once they've finally made it to Ethan's bedroom and their sat side by side on the edge of Ethan's bed, Cal can't help but feel relieved. He passes his brother his pyjamas from their position, neatly folded beneath his pillow, and tries not to feel offended when Ethan point blank refuses any help.

Without needing to be told, Ethan crawls beneath the duvet. Cal can tell he's in pain by the way he grimaces as he lies back against the pillows and it does nothing to appease him.

"Shuffle up," he says to his brother. "I'm staying in here tonight."

He's not sure whether to take it as a good or bad sign that Ethan moves over without resistance. Either way, as he watches his brother's eyes flutter shut, Cal knows he won't be getting much sleep tonight.

* * *

Ethan wakes to an empty room. The other side of the duvet is messily strewn back across the bed. Sleepily, he stretches into the space. Pain shoots down his side and he gasps, the shock projecting him back into consciousness. Memories return like bullets: those accusations that were thrown at him in the street, being shoved into a dark alleyway, surrounded, threatened, terrified. As his body readjusts to being awake it feels as though the fists are ploughing into him again, on fast-forward this time. The attack itself had felt like it lasted hours. As they overcame his feeble attempts to fight back, pushing him down, hitting and kicking him from every angle, all Ethan had been able to do was curl into a ball and wait for it to be over. He shudders and the movement sends a dull ache through his chest. Everything hurts.

He tries to push himself upright but his body refuses to work like normal and his weak arms give way. Although it's a soft mattress that he collapses back on, it may as well be lead. He knows it's a waiting game with these kind of injuries, bruises and cuts, nothing life threatening but serious enough for every movement to result in pain. It's foggy trying to remember Cal and Alicia treating him last night. He can recall the tears on his girlfriend's cheeks and the knot between his brother's eyes far easier than what they actually did to him. He knows they were worried though. Remembers them trying to insist he went to hospital. And that's the worst thing of all; not the lack of treatment, but the reason behind it. Ethan can cope with this, the pain and exhaustion, far better than he could if anything happened to Cal or Alicia because of him.

"How are you feeling?"

Ethan lifts his head. Cal's in the doorway, looking unusually apprehensive about coming into the room, surprising considering he had no hesitations about sharing bed space with him last night. There's a first aid box in his arms and Ethan's stethoscope is balancing precariously over one shoulder. Ethan gets the feeling he's about to be subjected to another round of uncomfortable examinations.

"Yeah, fine," Ethan lies. He clears his throat, trying to dispel the rasp in his voice. "Much better now that I've had a sleep."

From the way Cal tenses, Ethan can tell his brother has seen straight through it. There's only been one time he's succeeded in withholding the truth from him and that had been the most painful lie he'd ever told.

"You should be in hospital," Cal says, voice low.

"No. No-one can know except you and Alicia-"

"And Connie," Cal interrupts. "I phoned you in sick."

"You told Mrs Beauchamp?"

"I had to." Cal comes nearer and deposits his pile onto the mattress. "You were due in work over an hour ago."

Something sticks in Ethan's throat. "What did you say?"

"That you've been beaten up."

"And what else?"

"What do you think I told her, Ethan?" There's an edge to Cal's voice now. "There's nothing I _could_ tell her. You won't say what happened."

Ethan looks down. He frowns and it pulls a cut on his forehead, making it sting. He wants to touch it, to check with the back of his hand that there's no fresh bleeding, but that would put an end to any pretence he's okay.

"You know, I'm your brother, I will find out," Cal says.

Ethan sniffs. It comes out louder than expected. He hopes Cal doesn't think he's about to cry.

"But," Cal says, unexpectedly, "it doesn't matter for now."

Ethan looks up. Their eyes meet. Cal looks tried and unshaven and Ethan suspects he's been up most the night checking he's still breathing. There's also something else about his brother that he'd not noticed until now, something which concerns him far more than his proclamations about finding out the truth; Cal's standing on his prosthetic leg rather than using his crutches.

"You're not meant to be wearing that at the moment."

Cal shrugs. "How else was I meant to get everything we need?"

"Don't jeopardise your own health for the sake of mine."

"Right back at you, bro." He looks at Ethan, hard, but after a few moments, when he's sure his point is understood, he gives a tilt of his head in concession. "It's just while I carry stuff. Honest."

Ethan gives a small nod. He's too exhausted to argue.

Cal smiles, although it's forced, and disappears again. In the distance, Ethan can hear him crashing around and imagines him rummaging through cupboards. There's no point worrying about mess; he's sure that his own damp clothes and blood soaked rags are still scattered across the floor from last night.

His eyes prickle. He holds his hand to his face and dabs at the dampness on his cheek. His cheekbone is tender and he works his fingers across it until he finds the cause, a stinging cut that feels like it's been steri-stripped shut. He continues to investigate his injuries by touch, almost a puzzle, some bits less of a surprise like the puffy eye that he can barely see out of, others more of a mystery, like the scab beneath his chin that must have collided with concrete at some point. He's sore, that undeniable, but he's more concerned about how he's supposed to pass as being fine when the wounds beneath his fingertips suggest they look as bad as they feel.

Cal returns with a laptop wedged under his arm and two coffee mugs clinking together in his other hand. He drops the laptop on the bed and Ethan, glancing at it, is relieved to see it's his brother's, rather than his, being treated so carelessly. The coffees are placed on the bedside table with far more thought and Cal tells him he'll pass it over when it's cool enough to drink. Ethan thinks, for a moment, that his brother is treating him like a child, as if being assaulted means he can no longer be trusted with hot liquids, but then he realises that the intentions are different altogether.

Cal perches on the edge of the bed while he removes his leg from the prosthesis and then crawls further onto the mattress, opening the first aid kit and giving Ethan a look as if to say _don't you dare argue._

Unfortunately, Ethan has never had any qualms about disagreeing with his brother. "This really isn't necessary."

"You haven't seen yourself yet. You look a mess, bro."

"Thanks."

"I'm not being mean," Cal says. "But it's true. Listen, these are your options; either you let me examine you or I put in a phone call and get you taken to the E.D."

Ethan huffs then wishes he hadn't, for it hurts. He knows he's been backed into a corner. "Fine. You do it."

"Well, I'd have preferred it if you chose the other…" Cal looks at him pointedly. "But okay. We'll get this out the way and then stick a film on, yeah? Your choice. Now, can you sit up by yourself or do you need me to help you?"

"I can do it," Ethan says, trying to forget his failed attempt earlier. He pushes down on the mattress and somehow, with Cal's hand at his elbow, manages to propel himself so he's propped up against the pillows.

"So," Cal says. "You _are_ planning to report this to the police, aren't you?"

"No."

"Ethan, come on. This wasn't just a little scrap, this is _serious_."

"I said no, Cal."

Ethan flinches as his brother's hands suddenly prod at the cut on his forehead.

"Sorry, it's just, that's been bleeding overnight. I need to change the dressing."

Cal shifts so that he's on his knees astride Ethan and the first aid kit is beside him. He removes the plaster and Ethan checks it as he discards it on the bed. It's coated in crimson blood. He sighs, resigned, as Cal rips an antiseptic wipe out of its packet.

"This might sting," Cal tells him. He wipes gently but his warning proves fruitful. "Why won't you report it? Did he threaten you?"

With his brother's face so close to his, Ethan tries his hardest to maintain a neutral expression as he reacts to Cal's near-accurate guess. "I- I just don't see the point," he lies. "I don't have a description or anything for them to go off."

"I don't believe you."

"I _don't_ ," Ethan insists, though he suspects it's pointless.

"Okay, let's pretend you're not lying to me, you really don't know who did this." Cal presses a new dressing on his forehead a little too firmly. "It's their _job_ , Ethan, to figure it out. CCTV, there might even be witnesses, you never know."

"There wasn't."

"Ethan, please." Cal places a hand on each of his shoulders and Ethan hasn't got the heart to tell him it hurts. "They need to catch the scumbag who did this to you."

"It's okay," Ethan tells him. " _I'm_ okay." His head throbs. "Well, I will be. I just want to forget about it, why can't you accept that?"

"What if he does it to someone else next?"

Suddenly the pain in Ethan's head and side feel insignificant. He gulps. Nausea rumbles in the pit of his stomach. He thinks of Nathan and how Kai was brave enough to report what happened but that Scott still went unpunished. Perhaps an additional testimony from him, with more evidence than just a name, would be enough to get him put behind bars. But then he looks up at his big brother, forehead creased, eyes wide with concern, and remembers Scott's threats. He can't put Cal at risk after everything he's been through already. He can't allow Alicia to get dragged into this mess when she's been so kind and understanding as he's muddled through the beginnings of their relationship.

"No, I've made my decision," he says. "I hope you can respect that."

"What if I report it?"

"Cal." Ethan's mind fills with fear and his brother's name is about all he can manage.

Cal shrugs. "I could."

"No. Don't. You don't understand."

"Then _tell_ me," Cal snaps.

"Don't be angry," Ethan pleads. "Not- not now."

"I'm not angry at you," Cal says, though from the way he snatches the stethoscope off the bed, he could easily be mistaken for lying. "I'm angry that whoever did this is going to get away with it."

Ethan stays silent. There's nothing to add. For once, he knows his brother is right, any assault _should_ be reported, he just can't risk the consequences. Wounds will heal. Guilt won't.

"Come on," Cal says, and he sounds upset now, "top off. I need to listen to your chest. I swear, if you're still wheezy…"

Ethan sags, embarrassed. It was one thing letting Cal take care of him last night when he was emotional and in shock, but today, with the morning sun blaring through his curtains, he wishes his brother was little more sensitive about his privacy.

"Remember, I can still make that phone call," Cal says. Ethan can't tell if he's joking.

He edges the top over his head. His muscles scream at every movement and he clenches his jaw, desperate not to let any groans escape. He sits patiently as Cal moves the stethoscope across his chest and abdomen but stares at the opposite wall, scared he'll see something on his brother's face that he doesn't want to, something which might mean home treatment can no longer be possible. But after a few minutes, Cal sits back and nods approvingly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Cal says. "Everything sounds normal." He collapses on the bed beside Ethan and gives him a delicate, one armed hug. "You'll survive."

Ethan returns his smile. "Told you."

"Shut up. You still look terrible."

Ethan takes the top and holds it up in front of him, turning it the right way to put it on. He's about to tug it over his head, when his brother grabs the top of his arm and starts turning it one way and the other. Ethan balls the top and follows his brother's gaze. He can see on his upper arm, both arms in fact, that distinctive bruising is beginning to come through. Cal will know as clearly as he does from their time at the E.D. what causes that pattern of bruises. Fingerprints.

As he looks at Cal, he sees recognition dawning on his brother's face. He's figured it out. He knows there was more than just one person involved.

Ethan feels sick.


	30. Chapter 30

Sorry, another long wait, I really hope I haven't lost you all! BUT it's chapter 30 & I've never achieved anything near this length before and your support has really helped with that. Hope you enjoy.

 **Guest:** Thank you for reviewing. Yes, I love that brotherly dynamic between them, despite all their arguments, they'll always put the other one first when they really need to. Glad you enjoyed the chapter, hope you continue to.

 **panicpeachpit:** To be honest, I almost regret not writing it closer to what happened to Cal, but I had those scenes from the last chapter in my head from the start so I stuck with them & so I'm glad you liked it. Thank you so much for your review.

* * *

 **30.**

* * *

The last time he'd checked in on Ethan, his brother had stirred and grumpily told him to stop making such a noise. Cal had wanted to point out that he'd been coming into the room every ten minutes for the last few hours and this was the only time he'd disturbed him, but instead he'd apologised and backed out of the room much faster than the speed he'd entered.

Now, back in the lounge, he's at a loss of what to do. He stares blankly ahead of him. The room is a mess. That's never something that usually bothers him, but he knows Ethan is house proud, constantly nagging him to pick up discarded clothing or wipe the crumbs from the worktop. He can't fix his brother's injuries but he can sort this.

He picks up his brother's coat. As soon as he touches the material, still cold and damp from the previous night's downpour, he's struck with a vision of Ethan, bloody, unconscious and alone as the rain beat down on him.

He feels suddenly exhausted and it's nothing to do with being awake all night keeping an eye on his brother. The reality of what could have happened hits him so suddenly he flinches. In his line of work he's seen it all, how the most innocent of shoves can end in disaster, and this was far from innocent. If Ethan's head injury had been severe, if they'd had a weapon, if Alicia hadn't found him and he was out in the rain all night… Cal rubs at his eyes, glad no-one is there to contest him blaming it on tiredness rather than emotion.

He doesn't have a clue what he'd do without his little brother. Having Ethan by his side is the main reason he's survived the months since his accident without slumping into a deep depression. Ethan's the only person he'll confide in on the difficult days or let watch when he's tired and struggling. He's the best person Cal knows. And so, he may not have the injuries to go with it, but the attack of Ethan was an attack on him too. And he hates the thought of them getting away with it.

Almost mechanically, he works his way around the room, picking up bloody cloths and discarded bandages. It's not easy considering he's on crutches and every time he crouches to reach something, he nearly overbalances. His thigh quickly starts to ache. But the alternative, leaving the mess for Ethan to find, is inconsiderate, even by his standards. He can't bear the thought of his little brother waking to pain and finding the evidence of why scattered around his flat.

It's rare for him to do any substantial housework but on the occasions he does, he usually blasts some music and sings along to make the time go faster. Today, scared of waking his brother, he does it in silence. There's a stubborn patch of blood on the sofa which he scrubs at with carpet cleaner, hoping the product is close enough to do the trick.

He's concentrating so hard on the task in hand that when the doorbell rings he jumps violently. He glares in the direction of the door. Whoever it is, now's not the time. But it rings again, a longer buzz this time and he decides he better go to it, if only to take the intercom off the hook. He struggles to his feet and is still on his way when there's a third ring. He hisses. His own sacrifice of having no music will be wasted; Ethan will soon be awake anyway the way this idiot's going.

He snatches the handset off the wall. "Yes?" he barks.

"Cal, it's me."

The familiar tones of a Geordie accent. He sighs. It wouldn't be fair to ignore her after all she did for his brother last night. Wordlessly he releases the door and lets her come up.

"Ethan's asleep," he hisses the second she's through the door. "You ringing that bell like that's enough to wake the dead."

"Sorry," she says. "But neither of you were answering your phones. What else was I meant to do?" She glances towards Ethan's room. "How is he?"

Cal takes her through to the lounge. He's glad he's tidied away the remnants of last night now; she doesn't need to be reminded by the blood soaks clothes like he was.

"He's okay, I suppose. Lungs sound a lot better now-"

"That's good…"

"-but he looks awful. The bruising's come through a bit more now. I just don't get it. Who'd do something like that to _Ethan_?"

Alicia hesitates. Cal narrows his eyes as he reads her face.

"Do you know something?"

"I- Not for sure." She takes a seat and waits for him to do the same. "At work yesterday there was an incident… I don't know all the details but Ethan lost a patient. The family were… challenging, I think it's fair to say. I was in cubicles yesterday, not Resus, but David said they were rude from the start, aggressive, Ethan asked them to leave, and- and when they did, that's when the patient passed away."

Cal leans forwards. "They didn't take the new well, is that what you're saying?"

"No, well, Ethan didn't actually get the _chance_ to break it to them. They disappeared off somewhere and when they came back he must have been busy, because the family went straight to Resus and found out that way."

"Ah, that's…" he runs a hand across his face. "That's not great."

"It wasn't Ethan's fault they disappeared."

"No, of course not."

"But they were angry, confronted Ethan, made some threats. He said he was fine but I think it really shook him up."

Cal's mind is whirring. "So you think it was them, then? That's who beat him up."

Alicia pushes her hair back out of her face and Cal realises how pale she looks. "I think it's a possibility, yeah."

"Listen," Cal says. He feels sick. "There's something you should know. Ethan's got some bruising on his arms. It looks like- like someone was holding him back while someone else was hitting him. There was more than one person involved. So if it _is_ this family… that sort of makes sense."

"Playing detective doesn't suit you, Caleb."

Cal whirls around to see his pyjama clad brother in the doorway, clutching at his side. His heart lurches. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Ethan ignores him.

"How are you, babe?"

"Alright. Thank you."

"Oh, so she gets an answer but not me?" Cal says, resisting the urge to add _but I'm your brother._

"I needed the toilet," Ethan replies. His voice is still hoarse. "That okay with you?"

"Come and sit down," Cal tells him.

He's grateful that Ethan does as he's told but can't help but frown at Alicia as she leaps to her feet and wraps an arm around his waist to help him over. He doesn't like to see his brother requiring help that he's unable to provide himself.

Ethan groans as he lowers himself onto the sofa.

"When did you last have some pain relief?" Alicia asks him.

"Um-" Ethan looks to him expectantly and Cal finally feels useful.

"Yeah, you're due some more. You've slept for a few hours."

"Okay, good. I brought some with me." She fishes through her oversized handbag and pulls several packets out. "Went to a few different shops so I could stock up," she admits, "got you some dressings too." She hands these to Cal rather than Ethan. "I was going to get you some food but I thought I'd come here first, see what you need."

"We're fine," Cal says. "We'll manage."

"Really?" She raises her eyebrows. "I'm not trying to interfere or anything, Cal. But it's okay to accept help sometimes. Neither of you are in a fit state to be doing the weekly shop, now, are you?"

"We'll order online."

"We're nearly out of bread," Ethan interrupts. "And coffee. Um, I would appreciate it."

"Of course. No problem."

Alicia smiles sweetly and Cal scowls. He doesn't want her help, he just wants peace and quiet so his brother can get better.

"So," he says, changing the subject, "Ethan, if you heard us talking, you'll know our theory. How close are we? Warm… very warm?"

"This isn't hide and seek, Caleb."

"No, but it's clearly a guessing game, seeing as you're refusing to tell us anything."

"I don't want to talk about it," Ethan mumbles. "I'd rather forget it ever happened."

Cal tuts with frustration. "And you always lecture me about burying my head in the sand!"

"This is different."

"How is it?"

"Cal, please." Alicia extends her arm around Ethan's shoulders and Cal gets the impression she's trying to protect Ethan from him. "You're upsetting him."

"Am I? Ethan?"

"No," Ethan says. Then, after a pause, "well, maybe a little. Sorry."

Cal sighs deeply, gulping away the urge to answer back. "I don't want to upset you," he finally says.

Ethan nods. It looks like it hurts.

"Why don't we just… stick a film on?" Cal suggests. "You can even choose one of your nerdy ones if you like, you know, with subtitles." He realises almost instantly that it was a stupid suggestion. Ethan's not going to be up for reading subtitles when one eye is swollen almost shut. "You'll stay, Alicia, won't you?" he says, by way of apology.

"I should have brought some popcorn," she replies, with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

In the end, Ethan lets Alicia chose and she opts for a cliché filled chick flick that Cal knows his brother will hate. But barely twenty minutes in, he notices that Ethan is asleep, cuddled up against Alicia's side.

* * *

Cautiously, Ethan readjusts his position on the sofa. He can't seem to get comfortable these days. If it's not an inconveniently placed bruise, it's the ache from sitting still for too long or the strain of reading a book through the only eye that will open fully. He doesn't think he's ever sat down this much in his life. Even at university, he'd been able to intersperse his study sessions with the occasional coffee break. But now, with Cal watching his every movement, he can't even glance towards the kitchen before his brother beats him to it. It's beginning to get annoying. His cuts are nothing compared to what could happen to his brother if he overbalances while carrying boiling water, but Cal doesn't seem to understand that.

The new position is no better than the last and so he's forced to place his book down beside him and use his hands to push himself further upright. A stabbing pain shoots through his chest. When his brother had diagnosed a broken rib, he'd tried to dismiss it, but the pain has persisted so he supposes it's probably true. He grimaces but makes no noise. He's getting increasingly better at hiding the pain.

"Will you stop that?" Cal says, from the armchair opposite.

"Stop what?"

"Fidgeting. You're meant to be resting."

"I barely moved, Caleb."

For a moment Cal looks like he's about to argue back, but then he drops his head to stare at sulkily his laptop. He jabs at a couple of keys.

It's only because Ethan knows his brother is as fed up as he is, that he doesn't complain about the excessive noise he's making as he types. Guiltily, he's relieved that Cal's taking his pent up frustration on the keyboard this time, rather than him. There have been a few barbed comments over the last few days, although, admittedly, they've been in both directions. Nothing has escalated. There's no point arguing when you can't reach your chosen sanctuary of the pub or workplace. Besides, Cal's been confined to the flat longer than he has, and Ethan is aware that the rooms feel smaller with every day that passes.

"Ethan," Cal says. He pauses, then puts his laptop on the floor and hops to join him on the sofa.

Ethan fights the urge to tell him to use his crutches. "What?"

"Uh, my appointment's tomorrow. You know, that check-up to see if the infection's cleared."

Ethan frowns. He's usually good at remembering the dates of his brother's various appointments.

"Will you be alright by yourself?" Cal says in a rush. "I mean, Charlie said he'd drive me but I can get a taxi if you like and he can stay here with you."

"No, I don't need-" Ethan starts, but then his brain catches up. "Hang on, Charlie knows?"

"Knows what?"

"About… this," Ethan says, drawing a circle mid-air around his face. "It's meant to be private!"

"Well, you've not been at work. People will be wondering why."

His chest feels tight. "What, you think the whole department knows?"

"Maybe." Cal shrugs. "You've got to quit worrying. It's nothing to feel embarrassed about. Least you're not a doctor who failed to notice an abscess on their own leg, eh!"

"You had a lot on your plate. It's understandable," Ethan says.

That path of conversation is easier than focusing on his brother's assumption that he's embarrassed. He wishes that's all it was. He's been unable to stop thinking about Scott's threats to Cal and Alicia and it feels as though every additional person that knows is a step closer to them becoming reality.

"So… what should I tell Charlie?"

"Oh-" Ethan's thrown back into the conversation. "-right, yes. You can take him up on the offer of a lift. I'll be fine here."

"Sure?"

"Yes," he insists. He forces a smile. "Actually, it'll be quite nice to be able to go to the toilet without an inquisition on why I'm moving!"

"You're not funny."

Ethan gives a genuine smile at that. The cut on his lip stings and brings him back to reality. "So you could be back on your prosthesis soon," he says. "That's good."

"Fran says if I get the all clear I can go straight over afterwards."

"That's kind of her."

"Yeah. To be honest, I might go regardless. Sick to death of being in here."

Ethan nods. "Now there's something we agree on."

* * *

All it takes is the first syllable of his name from the receptionist's mouth and Cal propels himself up from the chair. The seats are cushioned here, unlike the hard plastic ones in the E.D, but that's made no difference; he's been twitching with impatience since they arrived.

He leaves Charlie behind in reception with a newspaper and the remnants of his packet of crisps and takes the corridor to Fran's room. He remembers the first day he was here, scared and overwhelmed, and how Ethan had needed to coax him to make it that far. He's faster today but not much as he has his prosthetic leg wedged beneath one arm and that's making it difficult to stabilise the crutches.

Fran's leaning casually on the wall outside her room and Cal spots the exact moment she registers his clumsy attempt at getting to her. She quickly reaches his side and takes the prosthesis from him.

"There must have been any easier way than that," she says, half-laughing, half-concerned.

"I was managing," he replies, unoffended.

"It's good news then?"

"Yep." He lets her hold the door open for him. "Can't wait to get rid of these things." He shakes the crutches from his wrist and throws himself onto a chair.

He watches Fran expectantly, waiting for her to pass him his leg so he can put it on. Instead she stands it upright against her side of the desk and pushes a coffee towards him.

"Is that your dad you've brought with you today?" she asks.

"Who, Charlie?" He almost laughs. "Nah, just a friend. From work. Not my dad, no." He tries to leave the sentence there but the topic hangs in the air and it's not one he wishes to discuss. "I just needed a chauffeur for the day."

"Ethan busy?"

Cal hesitates. "Uh, yeah."

"Okay." She drains her coffee, somehow managing it elegantly, not in big gulps like he would have done. "So, how's the leg?"

"Well, still _not there_."

"And the giant infected abscess?" she says, without losing a beat.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's gone too."

"Good. Am I okay to examine it?"

"What, you?"

She gives him a funny look. "No, I'll get the receptionist in, shall I?"

"Can do. She's hot," he says in attempt to cover his own discomfort. He still struggles with the idea of people seeing his leg, but he doesn't know why it's hit him now, with Fran who's seen it many times before. Perhaps it's because she's become more of a friend rather than just his prosthetist.

"Don't go getting any ideas," she says. "Her boyfriend's twice your size. Don't want you in here with two black eyes next week."

Cal tries to laugh but her phrasing veered too near to Ethan's current predicament and he finds he's suddenly lost the banter. "Go on then," he manages, "see it for yourself. All healed."

Fran pulls on her gloves and gently examines his leg. It doesn't hurt but it's still a battle not to squirm away from her touch. He stares at the wall behind her and waits for her verdict.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Well, the GP said I was. I've got it in writing somewhere. I don't know, a pocket or-"

"Cal. Not the leg." She slowly releases it. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah," he says. It comes out higher than he'd intended and she gives him a knowing glance. "I am," he insists.

"What's the but?"

He holds himself stiff for a moment or two, debating what to tell her. His body deflates, deciding for him. "It's not me," he says. "It's Ethan. He…" Cal pauses. He's sure his brother wouldn't want him telling Fran, but it's not like he'll find out anyway. "He got beaten up."

Her eyes widen. "Is he okay?"

"Uh, yeah, he's getting there. Physically, anyway. We patched him up." He waits for her response, hoping she'll turn the conversation back to what they're meant to be talking about; his leg. But instead Fran stays silent and, the next thing he knows, words are bursting from his mouth. "I'm worried about him," he says. "He won't talk to me about it. He's hiding what _really_ happened."

"Perhaps it's difficult for him to talk about."

"But he's not even reported it. And this is _Ethan_ , Mr Rule Book himself. He _knows_ stuff like this needs to get passed onto the police. I think he's scared," he says, although the idea's popped into his head only now. "I mean, that would explain why he won't talk to the police. But I'm his brother, he should tell _me_."

"And do you tell him everything?"

"No," Cal admits. "But he usually gets it out of me in the end."

"Then give him time," she says, gently. "He'll come to you when he's ready."

Cal looks away. He's too ashamed to admit that Ethan doesn't usually come to him with his problems. Once, because he wasn't mature enough to listen, and now, because he has too many of his own to deal with.

"Look, are we going to sit here talking about my brother all afternoon or are you planning on helping me?"

He watches her bite back a retort. It reassures him. If she's conscious enough of the professional boundaries not to tell him when he's being a jerk, it's likely she won't press him to talk about Ethan either.

"Let me grab Mo," she says. "He said he was going to practice some yoga in the staffroom until he knew we were definitely on."

She pulls a face and Cal knows he's forgiven. He manages a smile in return. If it were anyone else, yoga in the staffroom would have sounded ridiculous, but he can't imagine the physio sat idly even for a minute.

As soon as she's left the room, he checks his phone. Ethan's name is on the screen. He taps in his pin quickly, worrying what's happened to his brother this time. But the message is an undramatic _Go okay?_ and Cal realises that in his haste to get to the clinic he'd neglected to update his brother. His response is brief: _All clear. With Fran now,_ but then he adds a second message, just one word: _You?_ His brother clearly isn't going to volunteer the information otherwise.

He receives a response almost instantly: _Good_. Cal starts to draft another message asking which of his texts Ethan was replying to, but Mo bounds into the room and his attention is drawn away from his phone.

"How you doing, mate?"

"Well enough to distract you from your yoga."

"You should try it. Good for the body and the mind."

"So's sex."

He supposes he's lucky that neither of them remind him he's not getting any of that at the moment either.

Fran rolls her eyes and passes him the prosthesis. He slots his leg into it. The familiar tightness of the socket comforts him. It's like arriving home at the end of a terrible shift except a million times more satisfying. He looks up at them, to let them know he's okay, and realises Mo is steering a wheelchair over to him.

"Uh, I don't think I need that," he says. "I've used it already. I can still walk."

"Cal!" Fran scolds.

He winces. "Any chance you secretly mean _well done, that's great_?"

Mo parks the wheelchair against the wall. "Do you ever do as you're told?"

"It wasn't for long. Promise." He looks back to Fran, hoping she'll understand even if he's cryptic. "I didn't have a choice. I needed to help and that's the only way I could do it."

"You're lucky it's healed."

"It was a risk I had to take."

She nods. "Okay. Give it a go and see how you get on. Crutches for support though please."

He decides it's best not to argue with that too. Besides, the prosthesis does feel heavy again and even though he manages to walk, he's glad he can push down on the crutches to keep him going. Even once he's up on the treadmill, he's glad when Mo instructs him to keep hold of the handrails.

"So," Fran says. "Have you had any more thoughts about that opportunity I mentioned?"

"Uh." Cal hesitates and it's only partially to do with Mo repositioning his leg. "It's not good timing."

"It's just the timing that's the problem?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Well," she jokes, "you are a pain. No, seriously, I thought it would be perfect for you. But if it's not your thing then that's okay."

Cal shrugs. The thought of leaving Ethan still fills him with dread, but there's something else now too. Guilt. "Yeah," he says, vaguely. "Yeah, not really my thing."


End file.
